Distortions In Time
by kakashidiot
Summary: Thanks to a horrible twist of Fate, Loki was not discovered by Odin after the Battle of Utgard. Growing up on Jotunheim, he lived as an outcast due to his small stature - until unfortunate events led him to other Realms. Familiar lands and people play their parts in this distorted tale. BAMF! Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre/during/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse.
1. In The Beginning

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of).**

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**This is an AU I thought up – based off the bajillion other Loki is a Jotun AUs out there – except, I hope that you can see my unique take on it. This will take place before, during and after Thor and Avengers Assemble. Set in MCU-verse only!**

**BE WARNED! READ THE WARNINGS ABOVE CAREFULLY! They are not applicable to each chapter – but they will come around in time! **

**MASSIVE LOKI FEELS! In tortured prose...  
**

**Also, for more sensitive readers, message me/review the story and I'll let you know the general ending of the story. For the worriers (like me) out there. :)**

**Please let me know what you think! I appreciate reviews muchly!  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 1

In The Beginning

**[The skies are empty on Jotunheim...]**

Silence reigns here with an iron grip. It pervades the frosty land, the icy wastelands of the inimitable race so known as the Frost Giants. There is nothing here, they say, but ice and snow and eternal night. And silence.

**[... so wrong...]**

**[... there is life even here...]**

You can see life struggle onward under the hard light of the stars – and hear it in the voices of the wind. The wind has arrived on this side of the Realm, the most populated area, holding the cities of Utgard, Griotunagardar and Gastropnir. Flying unhindered from the Kaldrfjall mountains in the far east, it has travelled a long way to reach the Eybjarg, the Chasms of Forever, extending from the west. Griotunagardar, situated on the edge of the eternally frozen dark ice of the lake known as Gnottvatn, hunkers down under the wind's roar, stalwart against the initial blasts – and then, the gales of snow move onward to encroach on the westward city, Gastropnir, which huddles beneath the protection of the Grarfjall mountains. Here, snow falls aplenty, but softly, muffling the quiet activity of the small trading centre.

**[... and beyond...]**

And beyond – beyond lies Utgard in the utter west, close on the edges of the world, the Eybjarg. It is a dark citadel standing as a sentinel at the chasm's edge.

Here, too, is silence.

It is the deep calm before the storm.

-0-0-0-

A long time ago, it was said the skies had been filled with exotic flying things – creatures who had long since died or fled, their names lost to time itself. On the land, there had been wide forests of jarnvithr, fields of tungblom and plains of the harsh blakkrgras – now long depleted thanks to the vagaries of war. And there had been other creatures, great and small, now threatened extinction, endangered by what threatens the entire universe - war.

For the land is at war, and has been so, for too long of a time.

-0-0-0-

As fortune smiled on the Jotunn, their grip of ice expanded outward and spread to other realms. A powerful King in his own right, King Laufey, used the power of the Realm itself – the Casket of Ancient Winters indiscriminately. Carrying it with him, he stood tall and proud, a striking figure among his own people, at the front of his legions – feet spread apart as he gazed over the empty land of Midgard. It was cool here, but not cold enough. The Casket felt right between his hands – felt powerful – strong and untameable as a wild stallion left too long to its own devices. It's chaotic swirls of power burst from his hand and covered the greenery in darkness and ice.

That had been the height of the Jotunn empire, such as it was, and could not remain so in the eyes of the other Realms whose duty it was to protect the old alliances. Thus, fortune turned its back on the tall, hard-bitten ice folk.

Asgard joined battle with Odin in the lead bearing Gungnir and stern expression. Within a day, the war was renewed between the Aesir and the Jotunn, and since then, it carried on with battle after battle.

It was an epic struggle and many mortals, Jotunn and Aesir joined the halls of Helheim, Niflheim and Valhalla. Laufey himself was fatigued, though not wounded – and Odin was more than equal to the task.

War raged on for years and decades and centuries... For what seemed like eons, the battle swelled, lingered, smouldered – only to renew again like a fire that could not be put out.

**[... and the land of Jotunheim fell silent...]**

-0-0-0-

Yet even then, life was not lost and hope was not entirely smothered, for the cycles and seasons of Time wait for no one and each Realm's heart beats deep and strong. During one summer campaign (for the Asgardians), Odin was forced to leave the front lines of battle in order to support his wife during the time of childbirth – the time of something for which he had waited so long – the birth of a son. Signs, portents of Dooms and prophecies had pointed to the coming of a male heir, the like of which Asgard had never seen – and would never see again. And Odin, who had long since learned to pay attention to the words of his far-seeing wife, took the joyful news to heart.

When he held the squalling, hairless child in his hands and glimpsed the future power behind its sky-blue eyes, Odin knew then that here was indeed the future King of Asgard. Bells rang forth and the Aesir rejoiced – and the Jotunn grumbled.

It was a few years later, by the flow of Asgard's calender, that the long-term effects of war appeared to have reached even Laufey-King. During a squirmish which had moved forward into the Aesir camp, Laufey stumbled.

-0-0-0-

"A slight dizziness," he protested as the Royal Healers and Sages forced him to lay back onto the ice bed spread out for him. "It has already passed – a mere light-headedness, nothing more. No doubt something in the food I had eaten or –"

He tried to rise again, pulling at the leathers which had been laid aside from his strong, blue thighs.

"Lie back, my King" Farbauti said roughly in a voice which brooked no disagreement or disobedience. His red eyes glared down at his Royal King and Husband – the one he had called friend and lover and husband and wife for so many centuries. "Considering that you have felt unusually fatigued lately, I fear it is something far better, and yet, far worse."

Red eyes met over the Jotnar sovereign and fora moment there was nothing but shuffling feet, whispering cloth, guttering flame and an indistinct mumble as a sage outside the tent cast runes upon his well-stretched drum skin's hide, stretched across a square rock between his feet. Stones clattered and bones rattled.

"Not a child," Laufey gasped then, laying back and glaring up at the plain ceiling far above him. "We were so careful."  
"We have needed a Sathr Erfingi for too long a time," his lover replied quietly. "Someone to carry on the Casket and the War if you were to return to the snows of your grandfather." A pause. The humming chant outside had ended. Then, the King's Consort added, "Maybe the spirits of the For-Eldra and the Heimrsal decided."

Farbauti warily eyed the ancient weapon – the Kero Fornvetr, or to the Asgardians The Casket of Ancient Winters – which had not left Laufey's side since the beginning of the Lengi Ofrithr. Even now, it sat by the bed in a place of honour. And whispered.

"Maybe it decided it was time."  
"Old tales of witless giants," snorted Laufey, as the healers finished their careful ministrations and examinations and congregated a little way away, in the far corner of the large healing room Laufey had been brought into. "Foolishness."  
"Foolish... I would not say that so quickly," Farbauti shook his head slowly, "but not something to be ignored entirely. If it – if she – if..."  
"Farbauti," Laufey sighed. "Enough of these tales and superstitious nonsense. This is no time for stories and witless tales. Neither is it a time for children, heir or no."  
"Odin All-Father –"  
"Odin All-Father birthed his get on his woman – an easy enough matter. And it is not as if the Royal Family has no Princes – Farbauti, mine, you have done your duty –"  
"'Twas not duty –"  
"Perhaps not," agreed Laufey with a chuckle. "A gift, then. Two handsome children any father would be proud of."  
"But Helblindi and Byleister are not True Heirs – and neither are they of age to be considered for rule either. Laufey-King –"  
"My mind is set."  
"But, Laufey-King, think – can you not sense it – this time, it could be different –"  
"If I am with child, it will be removed."  
"No – Laufey, my love – please –"

Silence.

"Well, let us see what they say," Laufey waved a hand dismissively, sitting up and pulling on his battle leathers and carved bone gear. Farbauti's eyes wandered over his King and Husband's chest, cataloguing the fast-healing scars and mild bruising.  
"My Lord," the head healer approached slowly, bowed and also tipped his head in recognition of Farbauti. "Your esteemed Highness. Great news. His Highness bears for us an heir. The runes have spoken – and Kaldro speaks: a King for our people, the like of which we have never seen –"  
"Remove it," Laufey cut the healer off.  
"Laufey, love –" whispered Farbauti, placing one hand on his King's.  
"This is a time of war. A time when anything could affect us," Laufey replied evenly, his voice rougher than usual with exhaustion. "A weak King will not lead this kingdom to victory."  
"A hollow victory if there is no future," Farbauti replied bitterly.  
"There will be other children," Laufey reminded his Consort, trying to lighten his beloved's dour mien. Farbauti looked stricken nonetheless.

Pause. Then, a sigh.

"But we can, perhaps, afford to wait a while. Just a little longer."

And so it was said Laufey suffered a mild stomach ailment and the matter was not spoken of again.

-0-0-0-

The spirits of the realms, the Heimrsal as named by the Jotun, speak many tongues if you would listen. Within the babbling brooks, the cry of the hawk and the eagle, the music of the spheres... and on Jotunheim, the powerful wind which crosses the plains. It is a harsh melody, a song which few can decipher or even begin to understand.

**[... can you hear it?]**

**[... it is even here... in the silence...]**

* * *

**OK. Here it is. The chapters are short... yes... (sigh) But that's just the way of this fic, I think... but there'll be a lot of chapters! (52 chapters planned) 'Twill be updated weekly or twice a week. Depending on the muse. XD**

**And how excited I am for this.**

**Ahem... to the Glossary!**

**Glossary & Miscellaneous**

Cities: Utgard, Griotunagardar, Gastropnir  
Mountains: Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains), Grarfjall (Grey Mountains)  
Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)  
Lake: Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Flora: jarnvithr (ironwood), tunglbom (moonflower), blakkrgras (black grass/heather)

Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War


	2. The Least of These

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of).**

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks so much to mirtama who reviewed! **

**So encouraging to me! Please let me know what you think! It helps me tweak things - and plus I just love reading Loki rants. (If that's all you wanna do in the review box, go ahead and rant!) Especially if you have good things to rant about... say... the epic hair of the Thor 2 trailer. Is anyone else excited for epic hair Loki?**

**C'mon guys. Be honest!**

**OKAY. Onward. For this chapter, specifically, the warning is... ABORTION! (Sort of. Yes. Ish.)**

**I don't think this has been tried before in Loki fic... so let's see how this bitter pill goes down... (shifty eyes) (ahem) Yes. Tried to keep my personal opinion from being blatantly shown. Here's to hoping.  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 2  
The Least of These

Asgardians believe – many still believe – the Jotunn race are birthed out of the snow. This observation came after decades of sporadic contact with said race and even less frequent thought... Particularly concerning the obvious lack of women among the Jotunn traders they had haggled with, and then, during the Long War, the prisoners they had captured (and killed). However, a few learned Aesir academics – old mages and adept women healers – came to the conclusion that if they had dissected the Jotunn corpses at their disposal correctly, the Jotunn were neither male nor female in the conventional Asgardian sense of the word.

That was all they figured out about Jotunn biological reproduction. The rest of Asgardian accounts relied on rumours and old wive's tales – babes birthed into drifts of snow, incubating in the ice, the size of the giant babes and the staple of fish blood upon which they suckled.

They could not imagine the burden of carrying a child for a creature of neither gender – a heaviness in the body, the perpetual imbalance in motion and the drain on one's life force. Laufey-King, returning to the front lines, made light of it – with difficulty. Despite the fact he held unlimited power in his grasp, the King of Jotunheim continually struggled with physical exhaustion and magical depletion.

Not only was it a battle to harness the wild chaotic force of Jotunheim's spirit, but the babe was hungry for its power and drained magic from Laufey at alarming speeds. Nestled in his belly behind Laufey's long bone fauld, the babe was shielded from lance and sword – but lay ever closer to the Casket.

It drank deeply – and Laufey knew then that Kaldro may have spoken truer than he would like to admit. _This child could be a being of great power_, Laufey thought one evening, stretched out on a bed of ice and snow within his personal dome room. He laid a hand on his still flat belly. _Yet, the child seems to grow so little. A small thing. Perhaps if I had more energy to give it and sustenance, it would be more ready for the harsh world..._

And so Laufey's long pregnancy continued unhindered – and Farbauti gained hope.

-0-0-0-

**[... then... silence fell...]**

The Frost Giants lost their foothold in Midgard.

Fell back to Griotunagardar.

And Odin All-Father and Asgard followed hard, unrelentingly, unwilling to lose their advantage.

**[... and the land descended into darkness...]**

-0-0-0-

Fleeing Griotunagardar as it roared in the uncontrolled flames of nightmare (fire), Laufey, doubled over in pain and assisted by Farbauti and several of his medics, cursed Odin and Asgard and the entire Nine Realms – but not as darkly as he cursed himself and sentiment and the child within. When at last, the lagging vanguard of fleeing Jotunns arrived at the stronghold of Utgard a week later, Laufey then allowed himself to be escorted to his personal Healing Room and examined. He wanted it out of him before night fell.

"It is still small for its age –"  
"Get it out," Laufey barked, between gritted teeth as Farbauti bound up a nasty shoulder wound. "I am wounded already thanks to that blasted Aesir bowman – and between the child and the exhaustion and the wounds, I cannot carry on so –"  
"But to remove the little one –" Farbauti's voice cracked. "He is still too young – too small – even for an early birth, he will not survive –"  
"The rate of growth is indeed worrying," one of the healers shook their heads. "It is, perhaps, deformed in some way..."  
"Deformed in body," another one added, "and possibly in mind as well."  
"Even more reason to be rid of it," Laufey cursed. "It is nothing but a tiny parasite as it is – I would be rid of it – NOW!" He ended on a roar and Farbauti stepped back with a wince and nodded stiffly.

Without any further delay, the healers brought forward potions for Laufey-King and began to lay out well-cleaned knives of bone and steel, bought from the finest Vanir traders and the Dark Elves on Svartalfheim. Farbauti kept his eyes on Laufey's red ones instead and waited with him for sleep to come.

"We will prepare," he said and then added softly. "Perhaps," Farbauti hesitated then. "Perhaps he will survive – if he is anything like his father."  
"It is nothing but a burden, Farbauti, forget it. Do not hold onto it so. Call it for what it is."  
"He is alive and I can feel him moving – this is –"  
"Necessary, if we wish to save Jotunheim," Laufey cut into Farbauti's protest. "And –"

Just then, a messenger entered the room, face dark with worry. At Laufey's peremptory wave, the Jotun approached and knelt before the King bringing the troubling news – Odin's men had only paused momentarily and were even now arming themselves for the long march to Utgard. Scouts had returned with news that Odin All-Father had given a speech to his men and promised to burn Utgard to the ground within the week. Even worse, more reinforcements had come through the Bifrost just outside the gates of Utgard - a larger force better equipped with provisions and tents. Although they did not seem to be doing more than entrenching themselves within the rock and the snow by the edge of the Eybjarg, they were a massive threat. Damn the Gatekeeper to Helheim.

"Farbauti," Laufey grasped his Consort and dragged him closer urgently. "I need you – I need you to go for me with the rested troops and take a stand by Gastropnir. Delay them for at least a few days, that I may find some rest – and then, return to – return to me, beloved, on the high road. It is there I will join you and together, with our backs to the Eybjarg, we will face our strongest fears."  
"Laufey –" Farbauti began, but Laufey closed his eyes.  
"I am so... so... tired..."  
"Sleep," Farbauti breathed gently, squeezed Laufey's hand and rose.

He did not look behind him.

-0-0-0-

The realms are full of wonders - science and magic intermingle in an eternal seamless dance, organic in ways that many may wonder at. With some, it comes as natural as breathing air – and the healers on Jotunheim were no different. Well-versed in their craft, they cut open the womb with a neat incision, removed the fetus and carefully laying heillgrjot on the opened flesh, fusing the cuts together until there was only black lines were there had been blood and a small wound.

Laufey slept.

The entire procedure was completed in silence with potions administered and rough creams ground from heillgrjot and tunglblom applied to ease any lingering pain when the King awoke. Lifting the tiny creature from King's womb had been disturbingly easy. Ordinarily, by this time, the child would have been almost ready to live on its own even if birthed this unnaturally early. As it was, the medics could see from the size of the babe and the anatomy that it was, if not deformed, then at least bizarrely small. A runt. To the uneducated, superstitious, lower classes, an abomination. To the Jotunn upper classes, an embarrassment, a sign of physical, and therefore social, failure.

Under the clinical eye of the master medic, it stirred – little red eyes opening as it lay in the palm of the medic who held the child. It began to weakly bleat.

"Take it away and dispose of it," murmured the head healer with a shrug. "It will die soon enough."

With a nod, the master medic and another summoned mage disappeared with it and the King was covered again after a variety of medicants were set out for his consumption upon waking. Healers and sages bustled about, carrying out their equipment, and then, excepting one who stayed behind to watch the King as well as two guards, they left the King to rest in peace. For a day, the King slept – and when he rose, he did not ask for the child, merely returning to his rooms to bathe and then sleep for a short time. When he rose, Laufey was happy to discover that while his full strength had not returned, he was feeling better than he had had for some time now. Without pause and ignoring the words of his healers, Laufey strode to the armoury to don his battle gear, Casket in hand.

It was only half a day's journey from Utgard when he met Farbauti's fleeing company. After several hours argument, Laufey won and Farbauti was sent on to Utgard to take his two sons up through the north passes through the Myrkr Skogr. Myrkr Skogr was a shadowy forest perfect to flee within – upward and onward to the certain safety of Skalldi and Dagaheim. Odin's force, Laufey knew, would hit Utgard hard – and if he stopped Odin here, his children would never fear the Aesir again.

-0-0-0-

The Battle of Utgard was a long and gruesome affair lasting over four daily cycles and two snowstorms were weathered before the last Jotun was rounded up. Laufey, who had retreated to the heart of the city the better to wield the Casket from the Aldinn Stathr of the Gothahus, ended up facing Odin-King himself in a glorious hand to hand combat. Perhaps it was his recent illness, perhaps it was the bone-deep exhaustion which had taken its toll, perhaps it was the fury of Odin and the need to end it at all cost... Laufey never knew, but as he twisted around, Odin's blast from Gungnir caught him and, burning into the flesh of his ribs, brought Laufey to his knees.

The Casket had been set on its pedestal – a small thing, yet so powerful – and so far from his grasp. It reminded him of what he had most recently lost. Laufey cursed and reached forward, unable to shield himself from Odin's blow. He found himself lying on his back, ignoring the jabbing pains deep within his belly and glared up at Odin's face which was bloody, worn and filled with regret.

For the first time, Laufey felt his age. Looking at Odin's remaining blue eye and white hair, the Jotun King had a feeling that Odin understood as well. Behind him one of the King's men stepped up and removed the Casket – and within hours, at the decree of Odin, the Casket was kept for the safety of the Nine Realms.

Never again would Jotunheim use its power so wastefully and ruinously.

Never would it know power again.

"I wish this had not come to pass," Odin admitted to Laufey one night, on the last day he planned to stay on Jotunheim. "Many have died for this war of which none can remember the origin. Now has come a time for peace – at whatever cost."

It was then, for the second time – and last time, that Laufey thought of the child who never was.

"Whatever the cost," he agreed slowly. "Whatever the cost."

* * *

**Well. Uh. Sorry for the shortness. Maybe I'll try to make up for the shortness of the chapters by updating more often... Hmmm... Yes. That could be a possibility. We'll see... I have to proctor some mid-terms and stuff... Hmmmm... At any rate...**

**LOKI IS HERE! Well. He's "the child". Not even that. He's an "it" right now, thanks to the clinical detachment of medics and et al.  
**

**On a side note, the age I put him at is more in late 3rd trimester by our standards. My idea is that Jotunns take longer to gestate and sometimes the gestation is variable... Sooo, if the babe is small, the Jotunn think it will just take longer and will let it stay inside longer before forcibly removing the baby. Hope this makes sense. Sort of. **

**Read and review.**

**Glossary:**

Cities: Skalldi, Dagaheim  
fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
gothahus - temple


	3. Abandonment

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of).**

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**I'm going to wait until Sunday to update this. That's what I told myself. I'm going to wait until Sunday. I'm going to wait until Sunday. I'm going to wait until Sunday. Ahhh... screw this... **

**And so, a new update. Why? I guess, I just want to get it out and who cares if no one reads this story. It wants to be shared, it's writing itself basically. So here goes...**

**As for those who reviewed... **

**THANKS TO WBSS21! Who gave me a splendid review for the last chapter and was a great encouragement to me. Thank you for your kind words!**

**It's so great to hear from people who are reading... So be sure to say hi!**

**[you know you want to talk about epic hair!Loki!]**  
**[you know you do!]**  
**[just do it]**

**In other news... I will update... Sunday as well. Or Monday? Let's see how long I can hold out. Also, I'll be posting a map of Jotunheim at some point and some fanarts I sketched today while watching Skyfall with friends... Hm. Yes. **

**If you wanna friend me on tumblr, I'm... hiddlesayings, dappled-things, mischiefmakerloki, kakashidiot, suitsforall. Yep.**

**WARNING! WARNING! Injuring of a baby and massive feels! ****WARNING! WARNING!**

**[runs away]**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 3  
Abandonment

"What shall we do with it?" asked the master mage, named Vaetta, as he eyed the small babe which lay in the palm of his hand. It fit his palm quite neatly and he knew without a doubt that if he clenched his fist, he would easily break the bird-like bones without much effort on his part.

And no one would gainsay him. It would be compassion to put the little thing out of its misery – and miserable it was, trembling and flailing, tiny fists waving. Tiny cries rang out, thin and weak, easily swallowed by the vast icy darkness around it. Not the lusty cry a full-formed Frost Giant babe should have. It's blue skin should have darkened further and its red eyes were pale – a sign of fatigue and hunger. _Not that it matters_, thought the mage, _it will die before the night ends, that is certain. _

"He said to dispose of it," the healer mused. "I could take it for further study –"  
"You mean to cut it apart?"  
"Runts are born to our kind – but they die so quickly, being abandoned by their families in the dark of night. Shameful things. It is impossible for us to ascertain why they had been so deformed, but this tissue is alive and intact. Come, let me have it, Vaetta."  
"It is a babe," the mage pulled away. "Small and deformed and unintelligent as it is, let it die with some kind of dignity – and go to the arms of the nattura and be at peace."

A foot soldier brushed past them, obviously in a hurry, and catching sight of the two giants glaring down at the small creature in their hands, paused and flinched at the sight of the deformed runt.

"Just bash its head on the rocks," he snarled. "This is war and there is no time for witless giant's tales or a scribe's nonsense. Asgard is upon us – and Laufey will have us all marching before tomorrow's cycle is over."  
"I will lay it in the Gothahus, close to the Aldinn Stathr," pronounced the mage. "Concern yourself not with the babe, you are, after all, more needed in the healing tents, Leysa."  
"Very well," grumbled Leysa unhappily. "I bow to your higher station, Vaetta, and your foolish sentiment."  
"Be well," Vaetta nodded and left his friend behind, clutching the still wailing runt to his chest.

**[... fortunately...]**

Unfortunately, the Gothahus would not be be accessible tonight, for a storm had descended on Utgard and no Frost Giant went out into the cold, no matter how powerful and hale they might be. If the Asgardians were indeed on their way, they would have to survive the powerful winds which came from the north and Dagaheim. A cruel kind of wind which stabbed you with its cold knives and brought many a good creature to its knees.

Vaetta wrapped the babe up in a piece of rough sacking, binding the legs and arms down, surrounding the bald head which now he saw was fully formed, complete with the matrilineal lines of Laufey. _If it had been but larger, it would have been... perfect._

The next morning, Vaetta was busy with a morning ritual to bless Laufey's early morning expedition, followed by a very serious council concerning a prophecy of doom foretold by Kaldro's runes. Thus, it was not until evening time that Vaetta finally found the time to pull the now quiet babe from the hard bed of warm rocks he had laid it on. He had fed the small thing in the morning and quickly fed it again – its last meal. Then, cradling the tiny bundle of rucksack in his large hand, the mage left for the Gothahus and the Aldinn Stathr.

He had only started walking for a short while when a large cry rose from the eastern part of the city, and Vaetta's steps hurried as he realized that Laufey, who had set out to meet his Royal Consort, Farbauti, on the road, had returned earlier than expected. From the sounds of it, a battle was upon them again.

An apprentice rushed up.

"Master Vaetta, you must come quickly – the mages have been gathered by Laufey in an effort to send a storm to delay the oncoming Aesir, for the first company of Odin have been joined by a massive horde, complete with sorcerers and the like of their own. Cursed Gatekeeper and the Bifrost – what have you there – where were you off to at a time like this?"  
"I wished to present the runt of Laufey to the Nattura at the Aldinn Stathr," Vaetta sighed. "Here, take it to the temple steps and set it there before the alter – go, young one. I will return to the others."

With that, he shoved the now squalling babe into Ekol's smaller hands and returned to the Eastern Wall, hoping that the boy would follow his words to the letter. Apprentice Ekol was oftentimes careless, although a favourite with Master Virthing. Vaetta shook his head. _Sorcerors from Asgard... at a time like this_. He sighed. _Already too many of us have been lost, our kind are dying out as it is. Depletion of the realm's atfirth speaks of a serious matter – a corruption – a breaking of ties with our Heimsrsal. Will the bonds which tie us all together ever be fully healed? Our King is already a clumsy wielder of power... and our land bears the scars of such hasty usage. However, even worse are other alternatives... If Laufey-King were to fall in battle, if the Casket were to be lost... slow death would visit Jotunheim... and stay._

Jotunheim's troubles descended on Vaetta's broad shoulders and as he the wide courtyard at the Eastern Gate, the mage forgot about the small creature. It's life was over. A mere spot on the large canvas of Jotunheim's history, not even worth a footnote.

**[... but do you not know that one blotch of paint can stain a whole silk canvass?]**

-0-0-0-

Apprentice Ekol was beside himself with worry, his footsteps quick and hasty as he slid and slipped over the icy stairs and stones leading toward the inner parts of the large city – the heart of Utgard, the Aldinn Stathr, the ancient temple of the Heimsrsal, the nattura and the For-Eldra. Others passed him, headed in the opposite direction, none stopping to ask the time of day or question where he was off to. This was no time for idle chatter – and the apprentice wished to complete his duty (however useless he thought it) and return to the side of the Master Mages as soon as may be.

_If I drop the thing along the side of the way_, Ekol stopped and eyed the small bundle with distaste, _who would care in reality? Laufey-King said that our Realm is all – first and foremost in our hearts and in his – and he would give all to save it. And yet here I am, wasting time with a thing – _Musing darkly, he looked about him. And then caught sight of a solution.

"Hey you," Apprentice Ekol drew himself up to his full height (not incredibly imposing since he had not yet achieved his Virtha Aevi, but authoritative enough for a lesser clan). He looked down at a younger, poorly dressed Giant who was standing at a doorway uncertainly gazing at the eastern wall.  
"Apprentice," bowed the servant, catching sight of Ekol as the apprentice approached.  
"Take this and deposit it upon the steps of the Aldinn Stathr – this is the express mission appointed you by Master Vaetta," Ekol said, holding the deformation upside down absently.

The servant took the thing into his smaller hands and eyed the tiny creature with distaste and loathing.

"It is a cursed thing and should be bashed upon the rocks or fed to carrion or –"  
"Silence, fool," Ekol snapped, wishing, not for the last time, that the ignorance of the lower clans had not been left so long unattended. "Look closely at the lines of its house."

A pause as realization set in and the servant nearly dropped the bundle in its grasp.

"It is of the line of –"  
"Again, silence! Take the thing and present it to the nattura on the steps of the Under Altar at the Gothahus. Do you understand me?"  
"Yes, Apprentice," the servant shifted his new charge and nodded, eyes wide.  
"And not a word to anyone or Master Vaetta will come and find another use for your tongue."  
"Yes, Apprentice." (Fear now. Fear was good.)  
"Well, what do you wait for? The Sun to rise? Go now!"  
"Yes, Apprentice."

They parted ways and it took only a minute for Apprentice Ekol to forget the small scrap of Jotun now on its way to the inner sacred place of Utgard.

**[... Heimsrsal was waiting...]**

-0-0-0-

Thanks to the Gatekeeper, as the Jotunns call him, Asgard was able to land a new vanguard closer to Utgard. When the Asgardians descended not long after, chaos broke loose within and without the citadel. Underneath the cold moons of Jotunheim and the bright, frozen stars, a mighty battle was waged, laying wreck to homes and halls and palaces and old and young. Black blood and red stained the white snows. Smoke rose and billowed and the ground shook as the armies clashed in thunderous battle.

Dodging flying rock and falling arches and roofs, the servant made a slow journey to the heart of Utgard only to find that it had already been overrun in battle. Slipping amongst the shifting shadows, the servant crept in through a newly made hole (thanks to some kind of Asgardian weapon, no doubt) in the side of the Gothahus. Making his way along the ground floor of the great temple, the servant found the Under Altar and at the sound of a crash nearby, nervously shoved the bleating thing onto the side of the step – and ran away. To his death.

No Frost Giant would hear from him of the mysterious runt which came from Laufey's blood.

**[... who can hear a child's cry under the voices of war...]**

**[... only the Heimsrsal...]**

Hours passed by (what are called days in Midgard) – blood flowed down the steps of the temple's High Altar and down the Under Altar. Above, miles in the sky, on the very seat of the sacred place, the Aldinn Stathr, where the Casket sat with Laufey's hands upon it, Odin came. Here, they battled and here, Laufey lost.

Soldiers poured in the Gothahus – Asgardian and Jotun alike – and fought and clashed and slaughtered each other in the very sacred halls of the Heimsrsal and nattura. Corpses cluttered the stairways and halls and winding passageways – and the steps of the Under Altar were littered with rocks and grit and dust. Defilement and death mingled in the air.

**[... they grieved... they always grieve...]**

The small runt, the little thing, the unnamed deformity, had long since been jostled from its spot near the square altar which had once upon a time served as a place of meditation for the long-since defunct priesthood. A Jotun had kicked the poor thing without even noticing it and the blue and brown bundle rolled painfully off the stairs, ending up underneath an icy ledge and overhang, hidden from sight by the corpse of a blonde-haired Asgardian warrior which had fallen close by soon after.

Stunned and bruised it lay there silently.

**[... Heimsrsal wept...]**

* * *

**KYAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH! BABY ABUSE! [flails] [pets Loki] There, there, KI is here. **

**So some of you might be like, this is unrealistic... Actually babies are quite hardy. First, quite a few late-term babies actually survive abortions and have to be killed (don't know how to say this in a nicer way) outside the womb (read this while researching abortion procedures). Second, did you know some babies survived going over Niagara Falls? Thirdly, Loki is a Jotunn baby (even if a runt) and that means... HIGH MASS and DENSITY and stuffs. So... even though he doesn't do a thing, I think this baby!Loki is freaking BAMF.**

**[Also I have a history of dropping/falling with my baby siblings and actually injured a couple. So, um, yes. Babies be hardy.]**

Glossary:

Nattura – spirits  
Gothahus – temple  
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age


	4. Ugly Twist of Fate

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of).**

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Well... here it is. Chapter 4. Put out on my Sunday... I dunno how China is related to you guys, but I hope you enjoy it whenever you get the chance to read! **

**AAAANNNND... was on Tumblr and Youtube until 4:30 AM yesterday. Tom Hiddleston - I hate you! You make me do stupid stuff like stay up too late! WAIIIIIIIIIIIIII DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF? MADNESS! Hiddlestoner madness!  
**

**(typical lack of desire to take responsibility for mad fangirl actions). **

**Although I was rather displeased by the amount of drama among celeb fangirls. I had wanted to become a famous writer... now, I'm questioning that. To be pestered. 24/7. I mean, I know it's his JOB in a way and I know that Asian actors have to do WAAAYYYY MORE (like Hagyeul stars)... but still, give him space, people! Let him go home early and chill and stuff. You can mail him and get his autograph the easy way if you think having something he signed is important. [Although, I must admit that I would accept a letter from him - but that has more words than just his name which equals more meaning.] Anyways...**

**British men are hot. But even more exciting... men with long hair. AKA new Loki. Do you see a theme in my comments? **

**Onwards.**

**Thank you amazing reviewers! (Those who were so kind to comment and let me know they're enjoying the story thus far!) **

**To Sydney Jones - I'm glad you're enjoying the angst so far! So awesome you love the Loki hair too - and that Ironman was cool. There's this awesome meme on tumblr, which you can see on my tumblr ("dappled-things"), in which it says "if you will watch Iron Man just to see Loki in the trailer" - and below is Dean's actor (J. Ackles?) going "no no no no..." (bashful tip to his head) "YES.". LOLZ. **

**Dunno if I can see Ironman 3 though. It's hard to get to a movie out here. LOLZ. Just too much issues getting tickets and crap and lining up. And I'm lazy...**

**Anyways. I feel like I'm enjoying myself with this story for some reason and I'm just excited about what I've got planned. I know it's good form to play it cool. But I'm not... (sigh)**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 4  
Ugly Twist of Fate

**[... here, here, the strands of Time splinter most unpleasantly...]**

Whatever glory the temple held before the Battle at Utgard (as it came to be called), it was lost now. Power which had run through the Aldinn Stathr and outwards through the citadel had disappeared as the Casket was lifted from its pedestal and escorted under guard to the Bifrost site and taken to Asgard immediately. To the Asgardians, it was a small matter – an easily achieved affair, with the High Guard Commander carrying the thing wrapped in blue silk and put in a wood box and then taken to the Bifrost site and Heimdall, activating the Bridge, called them and their treasure home.

It was a simple matter of placing it within the King's chambers and locking the rooms under strict surveillance until Odin returned and dealt with the matter himself. Such magical items, Odin All-Father believed, were best kept under lock and key, far away from those who would use it for ill – whether they be Jotunn or Asgardian.

This, of course, did not sit well with the Aesir High Council of Magics and Academics, but no one dare gainsay the All-Father and so, the Casket was stowed away – to become yet another stolen relic of a forgotten age.

With its removal from the realm of Jotunheim, a silence fell – a hush as any who had been gifted with a spark of magic felt the spirit of the realm die out.

**[... a cry of mourning rose...]**

By the time the Odin All-Father made it down to the Under Altar, he was spent. Aching and tired, he contemplated the scene of massacre which surrounded him and continued out into the street. _A glorious day?_ He wondered. _To some, perhaps, it will be remembered as a time of victory. To others..._

Deep voices rose and there was a clash of bone and metal as the Jotunn renewed their struggle in an effort to push past the Asgardians to the Bifrost site. To regain the treasure they had lost. The pain and anger of the crippled people drowned out the anxious cry of the abandoned runt, muffled by the purple cape of an Asgardian warrior.

As if conflicted, Odin paused. Then froze as he thought he heard a sound – _surely that was not?_ – he turned – but then the harsh cry of enraged Jotunn rose again. Shaking his head, chastising himself for his weariness, Odin focused on the task at hand. His guards were coming down the stairs even now with Laufey in tow.

Moving away from the Under Altar, the white-haired, one-eyed, weary Asgardian King turned toward his new captive and nodded. With that, Laufey and Odin walked out side by side followed by the company of guards.

The Gothahus, the Aldinn Stathr, the High and the Under Altar, were left in peace – and quiet came again to the room. The quiet of the dead.

And had its voices not been stolen and abandoned in turn, the Heimsrsal would have foretold the dangers which lay ahead for the Nine Realms alike – as Fate's cords twisted and warped.

But such is destiny.

-0-0-0-

The following day, to ensure the Jotunn would think twice before attacking – even as crippled as they were – the Mages were corralled and executed, wiping out the last of any magical might and learning to be found in the icy kingdom. Laufey, tall, bitter and silent, did not bow, nor did he weep. Face stony, he watched several hours later as Odin-King, turned, met his red eyes and nodded, the golden light surrounded the remaining Aesir force and the Asgardians were gone, leaving Jotunheim to drown in darkness.

Reaching the golden city, Odin did not return to his chamber immediately. Rather, his weary steps took him to his wife's chambers where Frigga sat in the pink of health with a heavy bundle in her arms – a loud, cheerful bundle of energy and warmth. Thor. That was what they had named him. A powerful name for a powerful king who would one day be as mighty as the force of Nature itself.

"How is he?" he breathed looking down at the blue eyes which stared back at him holding a wonderful sense of glee and innocence.  
"How is he?" Frigga rose right away and put the baby in the small, intricately carved cot by her bed. "Thor is well enough – but you look like you have been in the wars," she joked a little, trying to lighten the mood. She paused at the sight of his face and his still red and sore empty eye socket and her voice rose a little in pitch and strength. "Oh... Your eye!"  
"It was necessary," grunted Odin. "It will heal – in a manner of speaking."  
"Why did you not go to the healers? You know how this kind of thing –" Frigga didn't complete her sentence as she rushed to the doors of her room and called a servant to fetch the Royal Healers. "Dearest, you must take better care of yourself or little Thor will have no Father to look up to! Next time, you will lose a leg or some such –"  
"There will be no next time," Odin said heavily. "The news will spread even now – our battle with Jotunn has ended. The war is over. Much loss on Utgard – and many will join their forefathers in Valhalla, but we have won."  
"My dear..."  
"So much death," Odin shook his head and then allowed his wife to lead him to a chair by the hearth where she eased him back and began to take off his armour, throwing it carelessly aside. "I did not know where to look. Numbing and horrific and overwhelming. The blood of our warriors mingled with theirs – in the end – it was as if everyone was... the same... brothers in death. And for what? So meaningless."  
"But it is over now. It is over."  
"Yes," Odin closed his remaining blue eye and sighed. "It is over. The Casket of Ancient Winters was taken and Laufey's people will never know power again. Their kingdom will fall into shadow and eventually the Void will take it – unless some kind of understanding can be brokered and a new King comes who will rule it with honour and better care."  
"I am sorry to hear it," Frigga whispered. "Without it –"  
"It has to be this way. You know it. But we do not have to like it. Still, we have peace."  
"We have peace."  
"At great cost, we have peace. Peace for their people, in a way, and more importantly, peace for our people. Peace for Thor." Odin exhaled and then smiled at Frigga, lifting a hand to caress her cheek tenderly. "That is why I came directly – to remember what was most important in the end. You... and he. Our family." A pause and he frowned. "But it is odd – I feel as though I left something behind on Jotunheim," he sighed again, shaking his head wearily, "merely the musings of an exhausted mind, I fear."  
"Then rest, dear heart," Frigga said softly, humming a magical melody which eased the tension in her husband's war-weary muscles as her hands ghosted over his under-tunic. "Rest."

-0-0-0-

And thus, the spirit of the realm was broken in two. A double blow for Jotunheim, although it knew it not. The Gothahus and the Aldinn Stathr of Utgard, lay empty now, filled only with Jotun dead as yet to be gathered. Servants and younglings trickled back into the city in search of their masters and parents – and discovered a desolation only found in nightmares.

Yet, the Heimsrsal is not so easily broken. It is the backbone of the world. It is the breath of wind and the snow and the ice and the light of the stars. It is the voices of Jotunheim.

**[... the silence was broken by a child's cry – but none heard it...]**

**[... the spirit of the world stirred...]**

**[... again...]**

* * *

**SOOOO SHORT! GAH! **

**There you go. More epic-ness - but soon it will get a bit more personal - as you can see from the small scene I put in there of Odin and Frigga and stuff... and you know, she's not Thor's mother in reality, but it's not made clear in the movie and I'm not going to make it clear here. She's with Baby Thor, yes, but Baby Thor's real mother could've died... and Odin got hitched to Frigga really quickly. Believe what you want.**

******Next chapter will be better/more interesting. ****Next chapter... Baby Loki and... someone...**

Glossary:

Gothahus – temple  
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
For-Eldra – Ancestors


	5. A New Destiny

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.**

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Well! It looks like people are slowly jumping on the DiT angst-wagon! YAY!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and fav'd and alerted and stuff so far! I hope no one gets disappointed by this story - it's going to be a harrowing journey! For realz! Strap yourselves in! **

**(pauses)**

**OH CRAP. I forgot two important tags. Ummm... (adds) (points upward) You've been warned. (edges off screen) Now, I don't write graphic stuff. So if you're looking for an author who's going to glorify sex and the sex trade and abuse and stuff like that... this isn't the fic for you.**

**Otherwise, thanks for hanging in there!**

**[You might be thinking that this chapter is longer and epic - like Loki's hair. Sadly. It is epic, but not longer than usual. Length of this chapter is attributed to map information at the end. Enjoy!]**

**Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 5  
A New Destiny

**[... for those who listen, they call...]**

Elska's feet dragged through the snow drifts which now piled up in the streets untended to as the Jotuns began to gather their dead. It was a long process – families reunited if possible, loved ones embraced, tallies of dead taken, the remains of supplies hoarded and divvied up – and then the mourning would begin in earnest. His mourning had already begun.

Mind blank, numbed by the carnage he passed by, Elska made his way back as if guided by puppet strings to the only place he could think of – what remained of his small home snuggled up against the lower east wing of the Gothahus. As he approached he couldn't help but shudder at the bone-dead silence of the place.

No longer a temple. Now a tomb.

Where there had been cheery starlight drawn in and enhanced by the Kero Fornvetr, where there had been pinpricks of light from candles and intricately welded iron lamps (imported from Vanaheim and Alfheim), there was only dark and blood now icing over in sheets of black and red. Elska's feet crunched along the swirling patterns of red and black as he stood and looked at the tumbled down portion of what had been the front wall of his house. The jarnvithr door, of which Haffa had been so proud... (_Haffa had been so proud of the little things, the idiot, but now Haffa was nothing – _

_Haffa was dead – _

_and the door was gone_),

Elska turning, discovered that it had been embedded in the wall opposite, across the wide street in which he stood. He fell onto his knees and raised his voice and howled for Haffa who had died holding Smarmurtr in his arms impaled on a gold spear – both of them through the heart. Howled and mourned for the darkness around him and for the blood on his hands and for the silence of the temple which would, he knew, be filled from now on with nothing but puppet masters – and for the loss of the his home's power thanks to the misbegotten hubris of his people.

_Who had paid in the end but we ourselves who would not let go our foolish dreams? And how did we pay – but with the lives of the ones we loved. Haffa. Smarmurtr. _

With a heaving sigh, Elska rose to his feet. Tomorrow, he would clear the dead and wash the steps and prepare the Gothahus as best as he could for whomever would come to take residence there as the Priest or Mage.

_Not that there will be any of those for a long time to come_, he sighed. Casting an eye to the lowering sky now filling with clouds, promising more snow and less starlight, Elska decided to find shelter within, somewhere in one of the small storerooms – or libraries – if they had not been discovered and pillaged and destroyed. He paused at the door and then looked back down the street at the empty houses further down.

_First_, he thought, _I must forage for some food. With ill health there will be little work done._

-0-0-0-

After an hour of searching, Elska returned to his home with a sack slung over his shoulder. It was full of dried fish, blackened hvaeta loaves, roasted meats and a few imported delicacies of which he knew not the name. There was no one to eat them, but Elska hoped that the ones who had passed on and become one with the snow of their Ancestors would understand.

Stowing the bag within the closest storeroom by the front door, Elska stepped out and round to his damaged home. Hefting the black rock and ice chunks away with a variety of curses, the Jotun caretaker managed to rescue his family's cooking equipment. Haffa's prized treasure which he had haggled over. Many a dear coin had been spent on the metal pots and pans, for the dwarves are ever greedy and enjoy driving a hard bargain with Frost Giants.

Extricating the last of his family's belongings, including the blakkrgras woven mats which Haffa had hung on the walls in imitation of the elves and Aesir (_curse them_), Elska returned to his new hideout with another bulging sack of belongings. This time, he stayed indoors, hunting down a good storeroom with a strong lock which matched one of his many keys and then unpacking what he had brought with him.

Some time passed, spent quietly sorting his things and stowing the food in a corner where the ice box was set. Filling it with ice, he laid the perishable food items inside, dusted his hands off and looked about. _Almost done_, he thought. _Now for the bed. _

That was easily gotten from a drift of snow outside the Gothahus.

He laid down in the pile of snow he had gathered. Stared up at the black ceiling. _Emptiness. Empty thoughts. Empty spaces. A vast, yawning void – like the darkness of the Void._ It brought nightmares, the ones all Jotun feared as children. _Look into the Chasms of Forever too long_, they said, _and it will never leave your eyes. Fall into the Eybjarg and your death will be slow and desperate and your __soul will never reach the company of the For-Eldra. _

It threatened to swallow him whole – until the light of a most powerful star reached toward Elska. _The Northri Stjarna?_ Without second thought, Elska stepped forward and reached out – and that was when he heard it –

**[... the stars sang together...]**

**[... the music of the spheres...]**

A chiming voice calling his name and Elska answered –

"Here I am! Haffa!"

He woke. It was not Haffa. It would never be Haffa. Haffa was even now suckling Smarmurtr in the company of the For-Eldra. Elska turned and forced his wail of rage and grief down – and heard a sound drifting on the wind.

**[... the wind's voices are many...]**

A thin, weak wailing. Light and piercing.

_Grarulfr? Blakkrbjorn? Or a child?_ Elska rose heart racing and wrapping his kirtle about his waist hastily, he strode out the room in search of the voice. The scuffling of his feet and the crunching of ice was too loud. He stopped. Listened.

_**Patience...**_

There, there it was again.

Elska hunted down the hallways listening carefully. It was a desperate thing and young by the sounds of it – and as he drew closer, he realized that it must be an abandoned babe.

_**Over here...**_

It was difficult to see in the deep watches of the night, for no light shimmered along the walls except the small torch in his hand. Elska thanked his For-Eldra for his acute night vision when he pressed close to the wall and noticed an absurdly tiny bundle of coarse sackcloth almost completely iced over with Asgardian blood.

Small. Pitifully small. Horrifically small. _An abomination. A lagreinn. A Jotun dvegr. Cursed_. He nearly dropped it – but the frail blue creature opened bleary red eyes and Elska's heart softened unaccountably at the sight of dark patches on its face and the one arm which had freed itself. Heavy bruising. _No doubt it had been knocked about in the battle which had taken place here._

_**Take him...**_

Elska could swear he could hear Haffa's voice as he pushed the rough sacking away from the babe's forehead revealing the rounded lines of the House of Laufey. For a moment, he could not believe his eyes... and then the Caretaker remembered the rumours. Elska's stomach clenched as he recalled how Laufey-King had tired so easily during the most recent months. _Somehow, he had begun __to carry a True Heir despite the war – and had failed. _

_Was it a war wound which had forced the child out too early? Or had expediency demanded Laufey to be free of this burden? At any rate_, Elska sighed,_ it does not belong anywhere. Not even here. I should leave it on the Under Altar for the nattura... _

Tears were rolling down the sides of its puny bald head and the tiny hand brushed against Elska's thumb which firmly held the babe against the palm of his hand. Elska froze as the tiny fingers latched onto his darker thumb – the tiny yawning mouth opened again in a helpless bleat and the tall caretaker's red eyes widened as green wisps drifted from the tiny fingers.

_**Take ahold of hope...**_

_It has magic_, he thought, his stomach churned. _By the stars and the moonlight, the child has magic – but it is a runt_, he corrected himself. _Still, it is alive_, argued the other side of him, the side that sounded like Haffa and the voices of the world. _And all living things deserve a chance. _

_That may be true – but is this life worth saving considering what lies ahead for it? Likely its brain will never grow – it will be a child forever. _

_But it will be a child_, said Haffa. _It will be my child._

_**Never let it go...**_

* * *

**Well... Does Elska keep the little thing? Does it live? Does it more than thrive? What will happen next? GAAAHHHH! **  
**OK. I dunno why I'm freaking out. I KNOW what happens. LOLZ. **  
**Gosh. I'm liking little Jotun Loki a -little- too much. **

**Just a little.**

**Please REVIEW!**

**Update will probably happen sometime on Friday or Saturday!**

Glossary:

Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
jarnvithr – ironwood  
hvaeta – wheat  
blakkrgras – black grass  
Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Northri Stjarna – North Star  
Grarulfr – grey wolf  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
dvegr - dwarf

**THE MAP OF DOOM** [http COLON SLASH SLASH s1354 DOT photobucket DOT com SLASH user SLASH scarecrowslady SLASH media SLASH Fanfiction%20Fanart SLASH labelled-JotunheimmapFINAL_zps04751133 DOT jpg DOT html?sort=3&o=0]

Legend

Cities (Yellow Dots)

1. Dagaheim  
2. Utgard  
3. Gastropnir  
4. Meerauk  
5. Griotunagardar  
6. Skalldi  
7. Thrymheim  
8. Vatnboer  
9. Snjarhamr

Lakes (Light Blue Dots)

10. Mykyreg Vatn  
11. Vollrvatn  
12. Gnottvatn  
13. Silvrvatn  
14. Vithrivatn  
15. Grjotvatn

Mountains (Grey Dots)

16. Grarfjall  
17. Kaldrfjall  
18. Offaerfjall  
19. Offaerdalr (pass)  
20. Svelshelf (ice shelf/plateau)  
21. Thokafjall  
22. Vestrefstland (west highlands)  
23. Austrefstland (east highlands)  
24. Nethriland (low land/canyon)  
25. Blarsvel Fjord (fjords)

Woods (Green Dots)

26. Mykyr Skogr  
27. Doga Skogr  
28. Jathar Skogr  
29. Offaer Skogr  
30. Smar Skogr  
31. Eybjarga Skogr

Plains (Green Dots)

32. Holkn Vollr  
33. Auster Vollr  
34. Mornathbjoth (the Wastes)  
35. Nether Vollr

Rivers (Dark Blue Dots)

36. Flara River  
37. Holdra River  
38. Vestrisilvra River  
39. Austrisilvra River  
40. Gleytha River  
41. Vithra River  
42. Eybjarg River  
43. Kvistra Rivers  
44. Bathmra River

OTHER

45. Eybjarg  
Drekeinn Eyland (the big island)


	6. Crawl Before Walking

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! (tears)**

**Some of you may be at the point where you can't wait for the next chapter to come out... and if you enjoy my writing style, I'd like to encourage you to read "Christmas Magic", my first attempt at writing in the Avengers fandom. It's very complex - very sad and happy at the same time, and you may need tissues... but the ending is happy so it's a general feel-good story. But if you want nice!shining-white-armour!Avengers, stay away from it. They are VERY conflicted in this story... And it's quite a looonnnggg story (like epic hair Loki's new do). Like... majorly. But it's complete! So there's that...  
**

**At any rate... more Elska and Loki up ahead... and other things happen too. Don't expect the happiness (such as it is) to remain for long! (heads up) **

**To... SydneyJones: Yes to both. I started watching Doctor Who with the 11th Doctor and then went back and watched the 10th and 9th. Epicness. I am a huge fan of Matt Smith's Doctor... and RORY! RORY POND! THE CENTURION WHO WAITED! GAH! (ahem) And as for Sherlock... be. still. my. heart. I LOVE Sherlock so much. It's like a Sherlock fangirl's dream come true. I fell in love with the original Sherlock from the books when I was about 16... and when I saw Benedict Cumberbatch, I was like... "Hm. OK." Then, after half an hour... DEATH!**

**So, if you guys are curious, my top fandoms are: Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Star Trek, Sherlock, Doctor Who, anything to do with Loki, Naruto/Naruto Shippuuden, Bleach. I have MANY other interests (Garth Nix's "Keys to the Kingdom" and Psycho-Pass, as well as a few K-dramas... to name a few) but really, I write fic only for Naruto and Avengers nowadays... and I want to write something for Star Wars, one day, particularly on X-wing pilots. **

**I currently label myself an avid Hiddlestoner. I want to see Hiddleston and Cumberbatch duke out a charm battle on a talk show - preferably Graham Norton since he's so funny. But, frankly, both guys are great... I think I just love Hiddleston's degree. LOLZ. A man who can speak Ancient Greek can... well... let's not go there...**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 6  
Crawl Before Walking

Sh-sh-sh-shhh... It was the sound of scuffling – leather on hard ice and stone. Scuffling and the occasional jingle of metal. In the dim light of the evening, it was easy to miss, but the keen eyes of three Jotunn passing by were drawn downwards to the slight figure darting across the broad avenue in front of the Gothahus. Two faces twitched in annoyance and the third Jotun, a new inhabitant from the frozen countryside, drew back in horror.

"An Abomination!" he hissed, pulling his friend to the side.  
"Ah, that would be Elska's lagreinn."

They watched as the dark hair bobbed closer their way, trying to hug the shadows of the wall – but failing as the pot constantly tripped it up. It paused, hunkered by a bank of newly fallen snow and began to scoop up amounts of the cold white stuff to stow it in the small tin pot. A small pot by Jotunn standards of course – to the Jotun dvegr, it was no doubt the size of a barrel. But snow was light and it was important that leeches like the runt should show their uses.

If such cursed things had uses.

"Ilska, I forgot you didn't know about it, being new and all –" The tallest boomed good-naturedly. "Well, that's Elska's Folly."  
"He bore a dvegr and did not leave it for the nattura?" asked Ilska, confused.  
"Well, if it is Elska's..." The other much more squat Jotun murmured.

The pot was nearly full now and the creature paused at the sound of their voices, peering up and then scurrying back to press against the wall and let them pass.

"What thing does it wear on its head, Feitr?"  
"Hair," snorted Feitr. "You really are a bumpkin, Ilska. Have you not seen any elves or Aesir?"  
"I was too young for the wars – and Dagaheim was never attacked..."  
"It is hair, and a strange sight, since our young ones never have a chance to grow it so long... Ah - and a leather forehead band – no doubt to protect what little mind it has within its skull," Hraezla added.

Ilska moved forward, leaned over and down to eye the puny creature some more.

"I can't wait to tell Meglin this... we never allowed this kind of thing to happen in Dagaheim."  
"Yes, well," Feitr huffed, "you aren't in Dagaheim now, are you? Come leave it alone –" He paused as Ilska flicked the creature on the cheek.

It flinched but did not cry, merely shrinking back against the stone wall of the Gothahus. Ilska watched, fascinated, as a dark bruise began to form on the pale blue skin.

"It does not speak. Is it mute – or witless?"  
"More than likely both," shrugged Hrazla with disinterest. "Elska swears it speaks – but we never hear it – and frankly, we don't speak to it either. Bad luck comes to those who consort with their like."

Ilska drew his hand back as if it had been burnt and he shuffled back nervously.

"They said that in Dagaheim as well."  
"It is commonsense. Let us go. Elska may condemn himself to cursed company – he is a walking dead man after all."  
"But to protect a lagreinn..."  
"Ignore it, ignore it," sighed Feitr.  
"It looks so sickly," Ilska said as the three of them moved off. "The colour of his blue is too delicate."  
"Lacks some kind of nutrient, no doubt – we all lack what we need and it is not like a dvegr may have first pickings."  
"I would have snapped its neck –"

They disappeared around the corner and the street fell silent once again, leaving the small shivering creature to stand there staring at its feet for a small moment before scurrying back to its pot and new burden of snow.

**[... but the echoes remain and the words cut sharper than the wind...]**

_Abomination.  
Vaetki.  
No-thing.  
Deformed.  
Lagreinn.  
Small one.  
Runt.  
Cursed.  
Dvegr.  
Dwarf._

These were the names of the creature who grew within the House of Elska the following years. It was a hard life, full of toil and loneliness. Watching the lagreinn patter across the icy floors, struggling to lift a metal pot of snow in its frail, skinny arms, Elska wondered sometimes if his choice had been just or intelligent. Commonsense (_but Haffa never cared for commonsense_) dictated that the child was better off dead.

For Utgard was a tomb.

Utgard, for a while now, had remained more or less empty – a ruined citadel of a more martial time. Poor refugees stayed whilst more fortunate Jotunn moved to the bustling cities of Griotunagardar, which had been easily raised after the fires of Asgard had abated – or Gastropnir. To towns further east, some departed - to Thrymheim and the other great capitols.

But Utgard stood alone, barren and wasted. Cursed by the mark of the Bifrost outside its gates and the dark horrors of the Eybjarg beyond. Its inhabitants found sustenance on the edges of the Myrkr Skogr and, harvesting the jarnvithr which grew there plenteously, found a means for income to buy the other necessities of life.

Useless leeches like the lagreinn were a burden no one wished to bear, but Elska shouldered it without complaint. Haffa was happy. Elska was sure of it. This evening he had decided on a thin soup for their dinner – his favourite which meant bear meat and winter melon. Sooner made than later, if the small one quickly returned with the second pot of snow he had ordered.

"Small one," Elska hollered down the ancient hallway. "Sometime before the moon sets tonight would be – ah. There you are."

He peered down at the insect (_now that's an exaggeration, Haffa would say_) which scuttled forward, tripping over its own feet in eagerness to please – eyes wide with worry and concentration as it staggered forward. Elska lifted the small pot from the arms of the lagreinn with ease. Small red eyes the size of pebbles (to him) watched with intensity as Elska poured the snow into another medium-sized pot placed on burning red stones by the hearth. Soon the thick iron cauldron would turn a slight red as the fire heated the metal. But the lagreinn did not press forward, keeping back – a harsh lesson it had learned when Elska had placed its hands on the fiery rocks, burning away the tender palms. Jotunheim's first and most important lesson in life: the danger of fire.

_If Haffa and Smarmurtr were here, Haffa would have done the same_, Elska chuckled to himself. _Haffa said that I would father a child just grandly. Perhaps he is right.._. He eyed the lagreinn. _Perhaps I would not do as badly as I feared. It helps that it learns quickly. In the end, the deformation is of the body only – in a way, this is a mind so great a weaker vessel is the only way nature may gift it disadvantage. _

Elska had been considering this for the past ten years as the small infant grew. It had learned how to walk – and could already speak some, although only a few words and none fluently, for no Jotun would pay attention to it in the streets if it were to attempt conversation. Talking with a runt brought bad luck, or so they said.

_We have already been cursed_, Elska grunted to himself. _It can't get worse than this._

"You think it cold out tonight?" he asked the youngling who still stood at his side watching the water boil with interest.

The small head – now covered in long hair not so dissimilar to the Aesir, but black instead of gold – nodded. Elska reached down and stroked back the slightly matted locks, noting how the braiding had come undone. A leather thong was missing from one end. _One day_, he thought, _he will grow horns and his hair will molt and reveal the wires of an adult. Or perhaps not. He is a beautiful creature in his own right – if you look hard enough._

"Use words, small one," he prompted.  
"Yes, Elska," was the soft lisping reply. "It is cold."  
"Hm. You think snow will fall?"

A fairly standard conversation between the two for an average evening. Elska turned away from the pot and reached for a shank of blakkbjorn and large chunks of ventrmellin and the spicy sauce and herbs that disguised the sweetness. Turning he noticed that the lagreinn's right cheek was rather bruised. He frowned, sighed and said nothing. There was nothing to be said. It understood as much as he – Jotunheim had no need for the lagreinn and by compassion alone was it allowed to live. Still, Elska knew that the child had much to offer. _More than we could ever imagine_, he thought.

The small one shook his head in answer to his question and Elska did not push it. Then a small voice broke the silence haltingly.

"The stars are... big..."  
"Yes, they do shine brightly, do they not?" agreed Elska. "No clouds make for a beautiful sky. It reminds me of the times when Utgard used to shine. When the King made this his stronghold and favoured resting place."  
"The King?"  
"The King," Elska repeated.  
"My father?"  
"Yes, Laufey-King. And you know we do not speak of your father. Come now. Straighten your headband."

Untying the leather strap with fumbling fingers, the small child took it off for a moment, revealing the tell-tale lines of his house before replacing the headband and tying the ends behind his head over his ears. It was a makeshift thing, but did its job – protecting the lagreinn from early death.

_Idiots who would wish to curry favour with the King would seek to relieve him of his so-called burden... but the lack of enquiry is obvious. The King has no fear nor love of the creature. Let it live. It is what Haffa would have wanted. _That was what Elska told himself – and later on that evening after dinner had been finished and the lagreinn had laboriously cleaned the bowls and ladles they had used, Elska combed the lagreinn's long black hair out with a comb Haffa had bought for Smarmurtr.

_Smarmurtr would understand_, Elska thought as he re-plaited the small one's long locks into one neat row. _They have never met - but they are brothers. In spirit._ Once finished, Elska brusquely turned the lagreinn around and straightened the small tunic he had sewn for the small body before him. It was basically a small, brown, square sack with a hole at the top and on the sides for its head and arms. No adornment graced the edges nor were there any fashionable nips or tucks as much wealthier families would bestow on youngling clothes. Elska's needle was not gifted with grace.

Ordinarily, after several more Jotunn winters (closer to a decade), Jotunn younglings would gain a roughness to their skin. Eventually, after many years (closer to a century), their hair would fall out or harden and the small horns of adult Jotunn would begin to bud. At that time, the little protection offered them against the elements would no longer be required. _But a runt may be weak against the cold forever_, sighed Elska. _Pray to the Nattura that it be not so._

"Well now," he turned his mind away from such thoughts, "what letter were we learning today?"

With these magical words, the lagreinn wriggled out of his lax fingers and ran over to the large bookshelf and hefted the Jotunn language primer which Elska had excavated out of his old home. Haffa had used it, apparently, when he had been but a youngling and Smarmurtr would have learned his letters from it in his time as well. Although a lowly caretaker, Elska loved language and had often delved into the mage's library in the Gothahus's west wing. Now, he was the only one to enjoy such texts – until the rightful owners returned.

"You have been learning quickly, little one," Elska said in praise, once again stroking the fine black hair and then lifting the petite child as the lagreinn chanted "Up! Up!"

The caretaker smiled down with pride at the clear blue face and the now familiar curves and lines which whorled along his cheeks and chin. Intent red eyes met his briefly. Elska nodded. _It is better the small one learns his place_, he sighed. _Less pain for him in the future. Still, it is a pity that such intelligence is so limited by what we expect from our people._

"Right then," he said. "Today we learn the last letter and then we will learn how to mix them together. The last letter is ae."  
"Aye."  
"Ae," corrected Elska. "Ae!"  
"Ae!"  
"Hm. Better. Let's put together two sounds. Thae!"  
"Thae!"  
"Sae."  
"Thae," the little mouth struggled to form the word and a small chin wobbled as eyes became huge at the realization of the rather obvious mistake.  
"What a lisp," chided Elska. "But I know you can do it! Try again."  
"Sss-th-ssae."  
"And again..."  
"Ssssae."  
"Hm. Pretend you are a sea serpent. Ssss."  
"Ssssthsss."  
"Haha. Well. Let that be practice for you all day tomorrow. Now. To write this letter, you must connect the 'a' sound right next to the 'eh' sound. See how they join back to back like mates?"  
"Ae."  
"Now, follow the lines as I do."

Together they practised writing along the black lines of the large book and then Elska sent the young one off to bed in the corner – but allowed the small creature to repeat the sounds they had learned three times before dowsing the fire.

Even with the lights out, Elska could hear the thin voice whispering to itself under the fur square Elska had found for it.

"A, B, D, Th, E, Eh, F, G, H..."

**[... the wind of the world steals the soft chant away...]**

**[... Jotunheim is waiting...]**

* * *

**Eh! TOT LOKI! ADORABLE! Yes?**  
**Say yes!**

**Tell me what you think!**

Glossary:

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
dvegr – dwarf  
Myrkr Skogr – Shadow Forest  
jarnvithr – ironwood  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
ventrmellin – winter melon


	7. Cruelty of Love

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**OK. And the downward trend begins... NOW! Um. Yeah, so read the warnings. You've been warned. Don't like? Don't read. :)**

**In this particular chapter the warnings about physical abuse of a minor. I do not think this is a good thing and this is not meant to titillate or make you feel warm inside. If you do get off on this kind of thing, you may want to get a therapist. Or something. In other words, if you hate a certain someone... please click-y on the review box and foam to your hearts content!**

**Thank you so much for faving, alerting and reading! Thanks to wbss for reviewing my chapter, And what a long review! Longer than Thor 2 Loki's hair! Maybe. (Only person who reviewed.) **

**I really feel encouraged when people give me a shout out - and I wish I could thank you better for your comments... I hope this chapter will suffice as thanks. :)**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 7  
Cruelty of Love

Five winters later, a Mage newly pressed into service of the King returned to Jotunheim. The weary inhabitants of the yet ruined city raised their voices with joy and expectation. With the arrival of the Mage, surely Laufey would return sooner than later – and Utgard would be restored to its former glory. Such hopes filled the air and it did not matter that the winds from Dagaheim and Thrymheim were so bitter that season.

Mage Opna was no sorcerer, not even a magician – but the service of tending to the Altars remained and the protection of the Archives. Elska's workload increased as he the hitherto untouched reaches of the Gothahus were opened. The small one was also pressed into service, running errands to various rooms, carrying what its now larger arms could handle, taking notes for Elska or bringing and sending messages to others in the city. Thanks to its short legs, the lagreinn could not reach the far ends of the city, but it could get to the closest plant and meat markets and that was enough for Elska.

Weaving blakkrgras together, the caretaker fashioned a miniature stiff broom for the tiny child and set it to work clearing out the snow from hallways and from the outside steps and around the Altars. An hour later, half of the room had been cleared away and the little one was working cheerfully in the far corner. The Mage, emerging from the largest study he had commandeered, eyed the runt with disfavour, his red eyes narrowing.

"Elska," his voice boomed down the hallway. "What is that... thing... doing?"

Elska, poking his head out of the newly furnished pantry, glanced over at the small figure on the far side of the room, head bent as the lagreinn focused on his task.

"Sweeping, I should think," Elska finally said slowly, wondering if their new mage was soft in the head or just trying to pick a quarrel. "I thought you would wish the rooms clear of debris for when supplicants arrive. And they will come, depend upon it."  
"Hmph... Well, keep that vaetki away – a defiled Mage is the last thing Utgard needs if Laufey is to come by this place again. Try to make its puny mind understand, Elska."  
"Yes, Mage Opna."  
"Very well. I will be in my study. Prepare the Dagaheim blargras brew. My neck is especially sore today."  
"Yes, Mage Opna."

Elska sighed soundlessly to himself. Mage Opna was going to be a handful. He could tell already. Later on that night, he watched the lagreinn study a large tome that Elska had borrowed from the library. His heart tightened at the sight of the too slender shoulders. _They look too puny to be normal_, Elska frowned. _Not that there are any accounts of Jotunn dwarves and it is uncertain as to what its weight should truly be... but the bone is sharp beneath the skin and there is not enough fat on it. No doubt the magic of the creature steals away any resources it may have.  
_

He laid a hand on the tiny shoulder and looked down at the book. A basic treatise on Jotunn magicks. Already, the lagreinn was showing further signs of magical development. Elska remembered how a fortnight ago, the small one had changed his skin colour to the pale white-blue hue more common to Dark Elves. Apparently, shape shifting was as natural as breathing to the lagreinn. Elska leaned closer to look at the textbook now opened before the little one. This lesson was on moving from one space to another instantaneously – a matter of legends, _but if anyone could achieve it, this one would_, Elska believed, massaging his aching chest absently.

"Elska is not well?"

Older, red eyes glanced down at the younger pair and he laid a comforting hand on the lagreinn's head and forced a smile.

"Just tired," he said. "It has been a long day."  
"Yes..." For a moment, the lagreinn studied the page and then whispered, "Master Opna has much to say."  
"Too bad his words have less worth than Kolvi's rotten fish," chuckled Elska.

The lagreinn snickered softly but fell silent soon after and said nothing more for the rest of the evening.

Outside the wind howled, promising a long and harsh winter. Clouds scudded quickly across the sky blanking out the stars, promising more snow, and Elska gathered the hot rock scuttle and carried it down to Master Opna's wing just in case the mage desired some warmth – or liquid water come morning time. For a moment there was no sound except the whistle of the gale as it tore at the jarnvithr shutters, the sound of ice debris rolling down the avenue, the faraway crumbling of a neglected tower and the clattering of some boarding left unfastened. Then, there was the crunching of Elska's large feet as he returned down the hallway, the creak of the door as he opened it and then the spit and hiss of the red-hot rocks as he bent over their supper.

And so, a few more winters passed and Elska's worries increased as the pain in his chest also grew. The mage and two healers who now reigned supreme over the west wing of the Gothahus (and the entire neighbourhood) examined the caretaker after one particularly difficult bout. In the corner of the room, shrinking against the blakkrgras wall-hanging, the lagreinn watched with wide, worried eyes as Elska lay back, grumbling quietly. Casting a glare at the as yet tiny runt, Mage Opna swept out of the room followed by the healers, deep in conference.

In between meditation services, healing hours (long painful times in which poultices were applied and meaningless prayers were mumbled and the lagreinn gained more bruising from thrashing patients or the less patient healers), and basic feud settling, the mage applied his mind to the matter at hand. The healers when they returned to the still bed-ridden Elska (whose duties were now being completed by a younger, hot-headed Jotun named Thyrstr), they did not bring glad tidings.

"It is a condition of the heart – no doubt damaged during the war... we could not help but notice the wound you bear," long black-nailed fingers ghosted over the aged scar above the Jotun's breast. "And your years are many... I am surprised you have held on this long after the death of your mate. Many of us pass soon after our Other Souls are gone." An awkward pause. "The time for your passing may be sooner upon you than we would like."  
"I cannot leave now," Elska gritted out, his sharp teeth grinding against each other holding back the pain which tried to force itself past his throat. "I have... have duties..."  
"Thyrstr will take your place as proud Caretaker of the Gothahus," Mage Opna said calmly, leaning back to lift a potion from the table. "The dead do not carry the burdens and duties of the living."

_I am not dead yet, fool_, Elska growled to himself mentally. _And I was not thinking of the Gothahus..._

He kept his eyes off the lagreinn. It would not do to draw attention to the poor creature during a time like this. When the mage and healers left, Elska beckoned and drew the lageinn up onto the snow bed beside him. The small head leaned forward to listen to the thud-thudthud of Elska's traitorous heart and diminutive red eyes, filled with unshed tears, rose to meet his.

"Do not be afraid, little one," Elska said softly. "Not for me."  
"Does it hurt?"  
"A little."  
"Do you wish for a potion? A drink? A blanket? Some matting to lay your –"  
"Peace, little one," Elska sighed and drew the tiny, blue skinned shoulders closer, so that the young child curled up by him in the snow, its still dark-haired head resting on his larger shoulder as if it were a gigantic pillow. "You are more used to the snow now, I see. Perhaps you will be strong like your father and withstand the roughest winters yet."  
"I would rather be like you," was the soft reply. "Fixing things and making things and hunting."  
"You will," Elska said. "You will. You are strong, little lagreinn. You will make Haffa and Smarmurtr and I very proud – wherever we are."  
"Tell me again about Smarmurtr. The story with the fish." The lagreinn did not wish to think of Elska being anywhere but by his side.  
"Well now, that is your favourite tale, is it not? It began when Haffa found a fish and instead of killing it, he brought it home alive in a bowl of crystal –"

And so the night passed and days and weeks also and finally one day, Elska passed too.

**[... Heimsrsal bent down, sweeping her child into her bosom, and brought him home...]**

**[... the nameless one cried...]**

He was alone. Yet, some days, he thought: _not alone enough_.

"Is there no creature more witless than you? I think not!" Mage Opna's loud voice rattled the jarnvithr shutters as he yelled down at the lagreinn who stood before him. The mage was seated in his study, books open before him and he glared down at the watery tea which had just been served him. A large hand rose and descended, landing on the thin cheek snapping the lagreinn's head around. The blow sent the small creature sprawling and after a few moments, it struggled to its feet again and bent its head in silent apology, listening to his master's rant. "Jotun dvegr is no name for you, vaetki! I told you already the roots must be boiled on the rocks for three minutes – no more, no less! Do you hear me, you witless thing?"

A quick nod.

"Make it again!" snarled the Jotunn throwing the entire service tray and cups and metal teapot at the vaetki which dared not raise its arms in defence. It had learned quickly that was the surest route to a worse beating. With trembling hands, the vaetki gathered up the as yet hot teapot, setting it on the tray next to the mug, now emptied.

"Bring back something besides the swill you think is worth drinking – and clean up the mess on the floor," snapped Mage Opna and he turned back to his desk, muttering.

The vaetki scuttled off, still too-short legs tripping over each other to get to the kitchen and try again._ This time, it would have to be perfect. _Carefully, he rubbed off the mug and the tray and set the kettle again on to boil. Watching the water carefully, the too slender vaetki absently rubbed snow from the ice box on the now growing burns which laced his shoulders and chest thanks to the warm teapot which had hit him. Dull red eyes watched the flames leap and burn.

_I wish I was but a flame_, he thought, fingers rising to ghost over his now very swollen cheek. _Or like Elska_ – here, his heart tightened – _here one day, gone the next_. The red-orange-blue flames blurred momentarily as the youngling remembered the day he had woken up at Elska's side and the older Frost Giant had not woken at his call and his body had turned to ice harder than stone.

The healers had burst into the room yelling something about cursed ones and he remembered the horror of guilt as he realized that perhaps this was something he had done – he tried to reach for Elska, force the green life of magic back into the still form – but Mage Opna had dragged him away, beaten him into silence – and thrown him into the small cupboard he now called home –

A sharp whistle jolted the vaetki out his dark memories and his hands were busy for a short time. At the correct moment, the Dagaheim blargras so favoured by the Mage Opna was added to the teapot with precise measurements – _just like a potion_, the vaetki thought, _if only I could make potions like Master Lind_ – and then the boiling water was added. Setting the lid on the pot right away, the vaetki patiently counted to a hundred before setting it onto the tray and carrying it out. By the time the tea arrived at the door, it would have brewed correctly – if the batch of blargras was strong enough. If it wasn't, he would be beaten again. The vaetki bit his lip.

This time, the tea was received with a grunt and a peremptory wave of the hand. After quietly mopping up the half-frozen mess of old tea on the stone paving, he fled. It was dark now – time for supper. Creeping back into the kitchen, the vaetki hunted down two small bowls of food he had managed to scrape together – from the leftovers tossed by the others earlier that evening. Quickly, the vaetki finished the bowls of ventrmellin and blakkrbjorn.

_Elska's favourite. _

He choked it down trying not to sniffle over the memory and then read a little from the magical tome he had hidden and still studied carefully every night. When it was time to dowse the fire, the vaetki slipped open the secret drawer on the side of the cupboard and eased the book in, shutting it carefully away, before drawing the hot rocks into the inner hearth where they would smoulder for the rest of the night.

Then, easing himself into the small jarnvithr cupboard, the vaetki curled up on his now slowly extended fur blanket (stitched with his clumsier, less tutored fingers). If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the sound of Elska's rattling sleep-noise and the smell of wintergreen. The vaetki's eyes tightened against the unshed tears. If Mage Opna heard him, or the healers, he would hobble on aching legs all day long. They seemed to gain some kind of satisfaction from his whimpers of pain and it seemed like everyday they found something he had done wrong which deserved a strike against the back of his thighs or knees.

-0-0-0-

As time went on, as the struggle to survive became more difficult, the vaetki fell mute, seemingly deaf to the epithets hurled his way. _What is it?_ They taunted it._ It is nothing._ It became nothing – a tool, a useful thing to have at hand. A whipping boy. A scapegoat.

Time stole away the memories of quiet moments, of kind if awkward hands and a voice quick to laughter. Time stole away tender words and the name it once had been called – little lagreinn. Time stole away so much and left behind bruises, loneliness and abuse heaped upon abuse.

It did not cry.

The wind cried for it.

**[... it always does...]**

**[... did you know?]**

* * *

**There you go. Sadness and whumpage and pain and such-like will now commence. But there are bright rays even here. We will see. **

**Please let me know what you think! Concrit is much appreciated!**

**Next update involves Loki's life and learning. :D**

Glossary:

Lagreinn – small one  
blakkrgras – black grass  
vaetki – thing, nothing  
blargras – blue grass  
jarnvithr – iron wood  
dvegr – dwarf  
ventrmellin – winter melon


	8. Survival

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Yes! WE NOW COME TO A VERY DARK CHAPTER! **

**WARNING! WARNING! SEXUAL ASSAULT ETC OF A MINOR! WARNING! WARNING!**

**Do not go any further if this kind of thing bugs you. Now, it's not very graphic - but it's there. And you can ignore this chapter and just say 'bad things happen to little Loki' and that's all you need to know. **

**Otherwise, thanks to any who chatted with me or reviewed! Give me a shout! Let me know what you think! Concrit is totes acceptable! - KI**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 8  
Survival

Many winters passed. Thirty winter snows and then some rolled over the hills of Utgard – and the city grew slowly, as slowly as the vaetki living in the cupboard at the Gothahus. The child had now grown a little more – only to become scrawnier and weaker looking than ever. An everlasting hunger yawned in its stomach, filling the empty halls with its growling. Mage Opna swore that it could call to the grarulfr and bring them down on it.

Curled up in its cupboard every night, the vaetki clutched its concave belly and prayed that the grarulfr would not come. But they came anyways. In its nightmares. _Jaws slathering, fangs bared, howls reverberating through the ground and the thunderous rolling of a thousand paws and claws – and the jagged pain as they dragged it down and feasted on its trembling flesh._ It woke – panting and shivering with fear and for several moments, it lay in the dark and trembled before turning and trying to find its sleep again.

But those nightmares were not so bad.

There were others. If it were taller, if it were not a living curse, it would ask Mage Opna what the visions meant.

The dreams of utter darkness and cold which pierced its bones. _The eternal falling. The falling which knew no end. And it could not scream or call Elska's name._ Elska would not hear its call. He would not come for such as the vaetki. But something else living in the gaps of the world would. _It would._

And there were other dreams. Dreams about _Elska dying and leaving it, because it wasn't worth living for._

_**That is not true...**_ Elska's voice whispered into the night. The vaetki, comforted by the voices of the world, would nod to itself in the dark of the night and echo the words to itself.

_Not true. Not true. Not true. Nottruenottruenottrue..._

Visions and dreams and nightmares. Some of them based on memory, on beatings and cruel words repeating as if it were some dwarven-made mechanized puppet. And other mysterious things which left him feeling dirty and used – Mage Opna and his ungentle hands as they travelled over the welts on the vaetki's back.

"Nothing," said its master, "nothing..."

Mage Opna's voice was rough, like his Jotunn skin, and, like the stroking fingers, slithered around the vaetki's hunched body. The vaetki's hands slid protectively along the sides of its ribs – but protection was useless. And one night, when there was naught but its master in the Gothahus (the healers had departed for a trip to a neighbouring village in the Myrkr Skogr), the innocent vaetki was pulled up into the lap of his master and taught the intricate dance of pleasing his master in yet another way. It gained more bruises then, thanks to clumsiness brought on by fear and more bruises blossomed on its delicate skin when the vaetki flinched away from its master.

"I am patient, am I not?" asked Mage Opna.

The vaetki nodded softly, its hand trapped under the mage's large ones forced to linger on its master's rough skin underneath the rucked up decorated kirtle.

"Am I not?" the mage's right hand rose to trap the vaetki's chin and his lips descended, hard and bruising. Not gently on the forehead as Elska had done. Elska had always been gentle.

Trying to still its trembling, the vaetki followed the mage's instructions, keeping its hands where Mage Opna wanted until its master grunted with satisfaction. That night, it scrubbed its sticky hands with snow before curling up on its furs in the dark of its cupboard. _If only, it had followed Elska to the place Elska had gone_, it wished.

Even then, it did not cry.

**[... and Heimsrsal wept...]**

-0-0-0-

"THOR! THOR!" Frigga's voice was now rising in tone and temper as she walked down the palaces hallways looking for her golden-haired son who had somehow disappeared between his riding lesson and the next appointment for the day - history with Mage Alfreth who was patiently waiting on the Crown Prince in said Prince's royal quarters. "THOR! COME OUT THIS INSTANT!"

No reply. Several paces back, her maidservants were also aiding in the search, more gently calling "Prince Thor!", "Your Highness!" and such-like. The boy was nowhere to be seen. Three guards approached from a distance, looking red-faced and just a mite annoyed.

"No sign of him, Your Majesty," the first said. "I asked the Royal Cooks and he has not been sighted in the kitchens, my Queen."  
"Neither has he been sighted in the gardens nor in the fields beyond, Your Ladyship."  
"I spoke with the outer guard," the last one, finally arrived looking a little worried. "They told me, Your Highness, just now - not ten minutes past - the young Prince was seen walking out with two others. There might have been some mention concerning the mountain lake -"  
"THOR!" roared Frigga, blue eyes flashing as she cut off the guard with a peremptory wave of her hand. "That boy! Ethelwyn," she breathed through her nose sharply for a few seconds before calling her maid. "Ethelwyn, have some tea and pastries sent to Mage Alfreth and let him know I shall join him in a short while - and that, for today, lessons are once again canceled. I must speak with Odin."  
"Yes, your Highness," the young, brown-haired maid nodded and departed gracefully in the direction of the Royal Library and Archives, while Frigga, dismissing the guards with a courteous thanks and her maidservants, sought out her husband, who currently sat in his private study, pouring over a recent missive from Vanaheim.

When she burst in, Odin set aside the letter, rubbed his temple and eyed his wife, noticing how flushed her cheeks were and how bright her blue eyes shone. _Not that now is the moment to mention such things_, he sighed. _It is only obvious what is on her mind at the moment..._

"Again?" he finally said.  
"Again."

Silence.

"Mage Alfreth will be most disappointed," Odin finally said. "Having to come into the palace only to end up drinking our tea and eating our pastries and wiling away the hour with his personal research -"  
"That is not the point, Odin, and you know it! That boy is out of control. You must speak with him."  
"I have -"  
"Well, you need to do it again -"  
"We know how this will end," Odin massaged the bridge of his nose. "I shall say something, he shall yell something, I end up punishing him, you end up crying... There is no change."

Frigga sat down slowly and stared at the pale blue shoes she wore, the rich carpet underneath her feet - and saw nothing but the bright, bursting bundle of energy her young son had become. By Midgardian standards, he would seem no more than eight years of their time - but time flowed differently on Asgard than on Midgard - and Thor's mind, as ever, craved for adventure and the mighty acts of brave warriors. _Doing things. Not thinking things - not thinking things through as he should._ This did not bode well for the realm of Asgard.

"I will talk to him," Odin finally said. "Perhaps a sharp lesson this time. Cleaning the stables?"  
"Cleaning - cleaning the stables? He is so young -"  
"He feels himself old enough to attempt to leave the city on his own," Odin said, "perhaps he is then old enough take on the responsibilities of his elders."  
"Attempt?"  
"Ah... that should be him now," Odin rose then, his hand squeezing his wife's shoulder in comfort as he called the guards in - the guards who stood behind a very sullen-looking Thor with two of his friends behind him (the ever artful Fandral and ever silent Hogun), both of whom had the sense to look a little frightened. Odin turned to look at his wife's astonished face, now relieved, now proud. He had done well. "I see all things, my son," he turned back to his young son and noticed how Thor glared back, "and I believe that your current schedule demands your time be spent in study and not in play. Come now, say farewell to Fandral and Hogun. You may see them later tonight - given that all..." A beat. "ALL of your studies are completed."  
"But Father -"  
"Thor..." Frigga's blue eyes gazed at her son's with disappointment.  
"Furthermore, because you disobeyed your mother's express command to attend your lessons and be on time, you and your friends will be also be able to enjoy each other's company tomorrow night as well - in the stables - mucking them out. Do you understand me?"

Silence. Thor nodded and something like a 'yes' was heard among a lot of mumbling.

"What was that?" Odin asked again.  
"Yes. Father," Thor said stiffly.  
"Thank you," replied the old king smoothly. "Now, I have a boring letter to read, you have an exciting history book to study and I believe the guards will make certain Fandral and Hogun will be returned to whatever tutor whom they have no doubt inconvenienced as well."  
"I will escort Thor to the library," Frigga rose then.  
"A grand idea," Odin twinkled down at his young son. "Have a wonderful time learning, Thor. You don't know it - but I'm sure there are many others who would wish to have the opportunity you do to learn so many things. With your station in life, there are many responsibilities you must shoulder - but also, there are many privileges. Do not forget it."  
"Yes, Father," sighed Thor - and he was led off to the library.

Along the way, he boasted to his mother about what the stablemaster had said about his riding skills and what he had hoped to find in the mountain lake (apparently there was some legendary fish to be caught). Frigga praised him and hugged him and laughed at the story of the evasive fish which Thor would catch and bring to her. She promised to eat it when he caught it, and with that, she left him to the tender mercies of Mage Alfreth. Shaking her head, Frigga continued onward to her weaving room. _He has got a long journey ahead of him_, she sighed, as she sat down to her weaving. A thought crossed her mind and for a moment a thread snagged as it tangled on the weft. _Made the longer for being alone._

-0-0-0-

"Where is the cursed vaetki gone?" growled Ketill with annoyance. "I wished to enjoy a snow scrub this evening."  
"Ahhh, Ketill," Lind's higher voice rose with a chuckle of laughter. "Did you not remember that our great Mage Opna had need of him tonight?"

They laughed long at the unspoken jest for a few moments before Ketill shifted and eyed his friend and partner in distress (what they called each other after their stationing at Utgard).

"No, but I jest not, Lind. I did want a back scrub this evening –"  
"I was making no joke, cousin," replied the younger Jotun still laughing a little. "Mage Opna sent the little thing off to the East Gate, poor fool. A fool's errand which will take at least a full cycle for it to complete."  
"Lazy illegitimate get of a whore," cursed Ketill casually. "Why did Mage Opna not go himself – the vaetki's legs are far too small for such a journey."  
"And yet, our genius patron has - and has cursed himself to a dull evening."

More laughter, this time at their employer's expense. There was nothing then – just the sound of the small fire lit in the corner of the room, hiss of the broth seeping over the edges of the cauldron thanks to a roiling broil and the cracking of Lind's imported nuts which he crushed easily with his hands. The older Jotun, Ketill, scratched his chest absently and considered the problem at hand.

"So then I shall smell like this one sun cycle longer," he finally said.  
"That or you may attempt such a gargantuan task by yourself –"  
"But you know how I cannot reach that one part of my back which –"  
"Or you may ask me to aid you," Lind snorted. "You know I give a better back rub than some abominable runt. I swear those puny things it calls fingers have less force than the wisp of an Alfheim's fairy-bird wing."  
"It is young –"  
"Youth has nothing to do with it. I considered it – by Elska's accounting it should be shedding its head fur at the very least. In a few years, budding horns. Do you see anything like that happening?"  
"Not yet," Ketill grunted. "But due to its size, it may be a late bloomer."  
"Hahaha..."

They laughed together again, rough voices rumbling like stones, chuckling over the inanity – the impossibility of the vaetki gaining horns much the less honours befitting a Jotunn adult.

"Can you imagine it – entering heat or taking part in holmganga – or – or –" Here, Lind tried to force the words out, "kostrbotha?"  
"You slay me, Lind!" choked out Ketill. "S-s-s-st-st-stop it!"  
"Kostrbotha, now that is rare, I admit – when was the last time you saw two Jotunn fight over another's hand?"  
"Hm. It is not common – but every Jotunn is ready for it... even if the vaetki were to be allowed the honour of being treated equal to the opportunity – it – it – it –" Ketill was now doubled over with laughter. "I could step on it with my foot!" He managed to get out.  
"Even if it did grow a bit taller –"  
"It would be laughed out of the arena –"  
"Or slain in an instant –"  
"Not that it could bed any of us –" Lind added, wiping away frozen tears of laughter and sitting back upright.  
"Although Master Magna is willing to try," chortled Ketill.

The two of them shook their head over the perversion of their master. No good would come of it, they knew. Why the vaetki had not been drowned was beyond them. Drowned. Or smothered. Or had its scrawny neck snapped or wrung. There many ways to go about it. Stoning was cheapest and most entertaining – but it drew a large crowd and the last thing the Gothahus of Utgard needed was a scandal spreading through Jotunheim about the breeding of a vaetki within its walls. At the very least, the pathetic creature should have been driven out into the wastelands and left to die.

Let Jotunheim take care of its own tragedies.

**[... they vaguely remembered that the land tends to its own people...]**

**[... Jotunheim is a cruel mother, but a mother all the same...]**

On the other hand, it was rather easy to understand why Mage Opna had allowed the vaetki to breath Jotunheim's clean air. The creature seemed biddable and partially intelligent if incredibly mute. Its patient misery was pleasing and knowing that the less palatable chores could be capably taken care of by it was something they enjoyed. So they said nothing and, with sly humour, watched as Mage Opna watched the pitiful thing scuttled about doing its daily work.

**[... and the cycles passed...]**

-0-0-0-

The best times of the year for the vaetki were the winter months when no one but the foolish Thyrstr remained as the two healers disappeared north to Dagaheim to visit their clans and Mage Opna went to the King's Court in Gastropnir in order to make his report on the minimal growth of Utgard. It would be many years before the King's Seat would be ready for his return.

While the Mage and Healers were gone, Thyrstr spent most of his days out on the icy lakes to the south, particularly Vollrvatn Lake, where the hafnathr swarmed beneath thick layers of ice. Such a hunting expedition might last a good two weeks, which allowed a comfortable silence to once again permeate the neighbourhood – as it had been before the mage's arrival and Elska's passing.

Left to its own devices, the vaetki scrounged for food and found odd jobs lighting smelling sticks for those who came to meditate or sweeping floors or running errands. Food left for the For-Eldra was now consumed by him alone, thanks to the absence of the still-growing Thyrstr and boar-like Mage Opna. Besides the usual tasks of clearing snow, washing floors and walls and preparing the meditation rooms and High and Under Altars, the vaetki also tended to Lind's garden of tunglbloms, blakkrgras, hvaeta and ventrmellin which grew easily in the uncertain climate of Utgard.

When it returned in the evening, back aching, legs hurting (but in a good way) and hands red and slightly bleeding with open sores from the harsh blakkrgras it often had to untangle or weed, the vaetki felt content. The evenings were spent in solitude. Lonely sometimes, but loneliness was preferable to the pain of Thyrstr's cane, the healer's slaps or the uncomfortable touches of Mage Opna.

No, the evenings were free – and the vaetki could crouch by the fire for as long as it wished, studying the tomes from the library, the lock of which it had learned quite early how to pick, memorizing each of the texts as well as it could before replacing them gently.

Each scroll and each book were treated with the care befitting a Royal Archive – no prints or smudges left as clues. Every line, every swirl, every letter, every picture was studied and the most important spells were copied faithfully onto smaller scrolls and cheaper leather journals. Ideas and theories alike crammed into every available space on the rare vellum it could pilfer.

These long nights were what it waited for each year – and each winter, the vaetki grew in knowledge and magical power.

**[... Hiemsrsal smiled...]**

* * *

**There you go. Thor behaving like an idiot - doubly so since Loki isn't there... and I hope it really juxtaposes well with Loki's life. A harsh contrast of what lives they live. **

**Next up... is... more sadness. Sorry.  
**

**No. Not really.**

**p.s. You may be wondering on Loki's name. Loki goes through a bunch of phases. He was known as the runt, then lagreinn (small one) by Elska, vaetki (by Mage Opna) and then there'll be... hmmm... ulfrbarn, dZh-Aleiko and Kol'la before he gets his real name. From whom? Well... from the person who gave him the name of Loki in Thor (as far as I can tell) - AKA Odin. DUN DUN DUN! (Yes, Odin will play a large part in this Loki's life). Hope that clarifies things. :P**

**For those of you who are still unsure about this whole Jotunheim world and stuff, check out the map I drew up, which is available in Chapter 5.**

Glossary:

vaetki- nothing  
Grarulfr – grey wolf  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains  
hafnathr – sea serpents  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
hvaeta – wheat  
blakkrgras – black grass  
tunglbom – moon blossoms  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage


	9. Diamond in the Rough

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**OK. So. Here goes: DID YOU KNOW... that if you search the Marvel Universe Wiki, you can find Doctor Who and Gallifrey. Therefore... therefore... if you are a proponent of the Avengers/Thor movie Loki being closer to the comics, you would also be able to argue that the Doctor could be in the same 'verse without using the word crossover. Technically.**

**Now, I actually seperate the MCU-verse (Earth 1999999) (not sure how many 9s go in there exactly) very distinctly from the other comics (especially Earth-616 which most people mix it up with) OR Norse Mythology. When people writing for FFNET's Avenger category casually give Loki kids (or other mythological stuff/life experiences when there is no sign of him having/not having experienced such things) - without saying its an AU or non-canon, I kinda go... "Hmmm... OK...". Of course, I'm writing an AU and if I wanted to, I could write Loki as anything from the comics/mythology... like portraying him as a father. But I won't. Sorry. No Dad Loki in this fic.**

**Anyway. There you go. Loki and the Doctor. Go for it. :D Nom nom. (just wants Matt Smith and Tom Hiddleston in a scene somewhere together...)**

**ALSO SAW IRON MAN 3! OMG! (dies) (so fun - although for some reason Chinese theaters added two scenes with Chinese actors in it. What the...)**

**But also exciting... Tom Hiddleston's Adam the vampire - as seen in the sneak peeks. You can see my tumblr post I made here: http: SLASH SLAHS mischiefmakerloki DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 50564611683 SLASH the-adventures-of-adam-loki-and-tom-some-adtomki **

**I want to ship them so hard... Must be the fact that Thor 2 Loki and Adam both have gorgeous long hair. Yes. That must be it.  
**

**Anyways... THANK YOU TO ALL REVIEWERS! To wbss21 (as always awesome), Raven's Dusk (so kind!), The Obsessor11294 (spoilers!), princessofd (huggles) and Serpent Prince (yay~). And to all those who fav'd and alerted and stuff. I genuinely thought that the last chapter would squick you guys and just turn off all my readers - but you guys are so awesome and cool and encouraging! (tears) **

**WARNING! BULLYING AND MORE UP AHEAD! WARNING!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 9  
Diamond in the Rough

"That vaetki – have you seen the vaetki around?" asked the miller, his voice heavy with anger and the tread of his feet was equally heavy. "I swear I saw it a moment ago."  
"No, Master Hvati," was the quiet reply of clerk who sat by the door of the mill and inscribed the daily quotas of each individual who brought in the various imported grains to be ground down further for meal. "I have been sitting here the entire time and saw nothing."  
"I swear I saw it in the corner of my room just a moment ago – dipping into the corn stores which Skira gave us to grind –"  
"Well, since Skira did not weigh it beforehand, it matters not –"  
"Oh, he didn't?"  
"No," smiled Vani, the clerk, "but I will keep my eyes peeled nevertheless."  
"You do that. So will I. I know he was the one who took the hvaeta meal from Elder Orn the other day." Master Hvati glared down at his young clerk and sniffed. "Go ahead and laugh. I know you think my age is catching up with me."  
"I am thinking no such thing," Vani lied smoothly.

A week before, Master Hvati had burst in saying that Elder Orn's hvaeta sack weighed one measure short – and that it had been the vaetki's doing despite the fact that it had been stored overnight in a triple-locked room. _Really_, Vani sighed, _at this rate I will be the one shouldering the burden of this place..._

But Vani had a wonderful sense of self-preservation and held his tongue. If Master Hvati wished to blame the vaetki (however nonsensical it sounded), none could gainsay it. After all, on this side of Utgard, anything unfortunate was usually laid in blame at the vaetki's door.

**[... the wind did not carry their whispers to the East...]**

-0-0-0-

"Aha – there you are!" Oklo chuckled darkly as the group of short youngling Jotuns circled around a small corner on the far end of the Gothahus, where they had trapped the small stripling who now stood, back to the wall, chin down and eyes trained on its feet.

It was the vaetki. _The abomination_, their parents called it something. The kinder ones called it dvegr. It had no name. Living curses were not gifted names; they were usually gifted death. And if not death, which was the natural order of things, then dishonour and shame – and punishment for continuing on a burdensome existence.

"Where have you been hiding all day?" Oklo asked theatrically.

He was the leader of the small band of younglings who roamed the disintegrating citadel and scavenged stones and excavated items for their parents. On lucky days, they left the city for the Myrkr Skogr to hunt for fell wolves in the forest or sea serpents below the thick ice of Vollrvatn Lake. Today was a free day and it was time to hunt down the vaetki and inflict justice upon its dark head for the insult it had paid to Shavi's father, Ekil the master weaver.

Apparently, Mage Opna had sent money with the vaetki to pay Shavi's father for a wall hanging – but upon arrival, there was found to be a shortage in the amount. Mage Opna blamed Shavi's father and the vaetki. Ekil had unfortunately voiced his first thought – that it was perhaps the fault of Mage Opna – but a few days later, apparently, the mage had searched the little beast's hideout and found the missing coinage, resulting in a shaming on Ekil's name for having spoken out against the mage.

All because of the vaetki's trickery.

Oklo's hand darted forward and he grabbed ahold of the creature's hair shaking it roughly as he lifted it up by the long black stuff. The creature came to his waist – but there was not much meat on it to weigh down Oklo's arm. A small whimper emerged as he bent the head back forcing small red eyes to meet his own. Dead-looking, empty red eyes. He snorted with disgust tossing it at the wall. It fell to the ground in an ungainly sprawl and lay there stunned for a moment.

"There is not a hint of a warrior in that thing," he sneered. "Did you see, Valki?"  
"Well, that would be a crime against the concept of being Jotunn, would it not?" asked Valki in his usual pretentious manner.  
"Particularly considering that it is a thief -" Here, Shavi kicked at the thin ribs. "- and a liar also!"

The vaetki was moving now, scrambling backward and sideways in an vain attempt to slip past Elo's weighty mass, but Valki easily caught it and held it upside-down, pinning it to the wall.

"A crime, yes," Oklo agreed. "It's very continued existence is a crime. That's what Father said."  
"Well said," Shavi sniffed. "What should we do with it then?"  
"Teach it a lesson, obviously," Valki snorted.  
"Hey, hey." It was the youngest of the bunch, Navi. "So, is it true that they are deformed? That they are even unable to bear children?"  
"If you believe witless giant tales," Valki shrugged.  
"I should hope they are not able to bear children," Shavi huffed. "The last thing Jotunheim needs is some kind of weakling breed leeching from its soil."  
"I heard that they have no manhood or womanhood," Elo muttered slowly. "Mother said that it is nature's way of ensuring their poisoned seed does not infect our Realm."  
"Hearsay," Valki replied dismissively. "But we have a live specimen – hold his legs apart, Elo. Don't break them, idiot! Do you want Mage Opna cursing you for disabling his slave?"

Elo eased up – but not before leaving long dark bruises along the calf muscles and ankles. The vaetki began to struggle in earnest as Valki tore off the small canvas kirtle wrapped about its waist. Large heads crowded round and peered down and small hand below scrabbled to find purchase against the Gothahus's stone wall.

"Well, that's disappointing," sighed Valki. "Everything looks normal."  
"So the thing could bear children!" Elo said horrified, nearly dropping the creature on its head.  
"Of course not," snapped Oklo. "Have you seen the others with child? The size of a Jotun babe would split its body in two."  
"Forget the act of getting with child," Valki added suggestively.

The others tittered nervously, their uneasy laughter drowning out the increased whimpers below.

"No, I think it is in no position to be of real danger to any of us. Unless it grew larger."  
"I think that is impossible, Oklo," Valki shook his head. "From what I have read, there is no account of a tall runt. Then again, most runts do not live within the week of their birth."  
"What about a slow grower?" asked Elo. "What if runts were merely slow growers?"  
"Slow growers?" Oklo and Valki chimed together in disgust.  
"Is that even a word?" Valki laughed. "No, Elo. I think not. It may gain several more heads in height – but the end result will probably be more alike to an Aesir than a Jotun."  
"Aesir scum. Perhaps this thing could be sent to Prince Thor as – Helheim!" Oklo's sentence broke off as uncomfortable heat blossomed against his chest.

Jumping backwards, the group of teens scrabbled at the flames which had appeared out of nowhere underneath their noses. Elo dropped the vaetki with a dreadful scream as his hands caught on fire. For a moment, there was panic as everyone dived into various snowbanks and rolled in the comforting cold, cursing and exclaiming over where it had come from. When they finally emerged, the torn canvas kirtle and vaetki were gone.

-0-0-0-

That night, in the secret of the darkness of his cupboard, the vaetki chewed the hunk of meat it had snagged off Lind's plate and a hvaeta loaf it had stolen from an inviting window three streets over. With sustenance in his belly, the vaetki found the strength to chant a healing song and ease the bruised muscles, allowing his skin to return to its recently much more healthy blue. Its fingers lingered along the lines which branched over its thighs and down to its knobbly ankles.

Mage Opna had told the vaetki that one day they would rise with age and harden into smooth lines. It would happen, the Master Mage said, sometime after its horns began to bud (if they ever were to grow). One day, the swirls would tingle with a heated fire which only another's tongue could quench. The words of Oklo and Valki however spoke of an eternal loneliness. _Which was worse?_ It was hard for the young mind to decide.

Wrapping thin arms around equally thin legs, it nestled its head on its knees and smiled. _The incantation for fire went well – and the flame was quite hot.._. Carefully, it ran fingers over its face and headband to check for any singes. _None._ The grin grew wider. _Elska was right – magic feels so right. Another part of me I did not know._

**[... that night the Casket of Ancient Winters swirled brighter...]**

**[... but no one was there to see...]**

**[... Elska saw – and he smiled proudly...]**

-0-0-0-

Several moon cycles later, the vaetki grew its own ice. As the variegating pearlescent and transparent natural Jotunn ice grew along its left arm, the vaetki eyed it with wonder. Its fingers (with sharp, black fingernails now) trailed along the cold dagger which formed naturally into its hand. Squatting there in the far north-east corner of the Gothahus (his remaining secret haunt), the vaetki raised its blue hand and stared at its fingers now entwined with the natural weapon of all Jotunn.

_I am Jotunn_, it thought, tears forming at the corner of its eyes – small beads of ice which froze on dark eyelashes. _I am Jotunn and my mother is Heimsrsal just as she is for the others. __Elska was right... in the end, I will not be forgotten. Even if I die tomorrow, I know I will go to the arms of the For-Eldra._

The ice cracked easily in its grip as it released its will and hold on the dagger and the pieces fell to the ground beneath its feet. Out from beneath its small blue toes sheets of ice spread before the vaetki and behind it up the wall. Unheeded. There was only relief. Relief from the unspoken fears which had grown in the darkness of its cupboard seeded by the cruel words of its betters.

If the snows of his Ancestors accepted him tomorrow, Elska would be waiting for him. That was enough.

The vaetki rose at the distant roar of its name. Mage Opna was calling – but that didn't matter. Summoning small daggers as it walked along the side to the corner and around to the eastern door, the vaetki practised its aim. Who cared what Mage Opna thought now? Today it had been granted the power of the Jotunn. There was hope.

**[... that night, the stars danced...]**

* * *

******Next chappie... Loki has an adventure and things happen... (of course, things happen! durrr) but, I mean, THINGS happen. Update will happen around the weekend, as usual. :) See you then, folks!  
**

******Let me know what you think, etc.**

Glossary:

hvaeta – wheat  
vaetki – nothing  
dvegr – dwarf  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains  
For-Eldra – Ancestors


	10. New Seasons

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**So, today, for various reasons, I'm feeling a little blue. (sigh) (not even seeing long-haired Loki will cheer me up) I'm gonna need to watch something light. Before I do, I'm gonna cheer myself by kicking commonsense fanfic rules and post a chapter a little early because I need some happy chatting with you guys to cheer me up. I hope I don't sound too pathetic.**

**And I had a nice talk with my parents over Skype and everything today! You'd think I'd be on top of the world, right? Right? Nope. Apparently the numbness in my hands and feet, disorientation, extreme fatigue and disorientation I've been feeling lately may be due to a massive B12 deficiency. Sigh. So tomorrow I have to go, armed with my Chinese dictionary, to a pharmacy and find B12 vitamins that won't kill me. **

**I hate medicine. Sigh.**

**Anyways... all this to say that lately I've been having a massive writers block over chapter 23. GRRR. Is it the lack of B12/my unknown illness? Or is it just issues with my muse? SIGH... Now I feel depressed... and this is an important chapter too! Like... Loki and Thor meet for the first time important! What if I mess it up? (panics) (realizes some Linkin Park has come on. FML) Right! Let's move onto happier things... A longer chapter! Yes! Um. Yes. If I were to give this chapter another title it would be... "The Promise of Comeuppance". Yep. That's my hint to you.**

**Once again, thanks to all my lovely reviewers!**

**Warning! Warning! Child abuse! Warning! Warning! **

**May want to look at the map I drew as well. :) Chapter 5 has the link.**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 10  
New Seasons

It was one such winter season, when the healers had returned to Dagaheim and Mage Opna was once again in Gastropnir and Thyrstr had departed to the dark regions of the Myrkr Skogr to hunt for wolves, that the vaetki was able to sustain himself enough to practice one of the new magicks he had been, as yet, unable to complete thanks to complete exhaustion.

From the rising of the cold suns to the domination of starlight, the vaetki was worked hard – running errands, cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, washing and scrubbing and sweeping and dusting and answering to his many masters – and fed little. Those were the hard months of the slow years which passed. But one winter season, the vaetki foraged along the edge of town and using a simple misdirection spell and a notice-me-not magick chant, it was able to steal the left hank of a wild hog and several rare fruits which had been imported from Alfheim and Asgard itself.

Partaking of his unusually large feast, the vaetki leaned back and patted its belly, eyeing the small sack he had packed in preparation for what he wished to attempt.

Short-distance transportation. Of himself and his small pack.

Once again he considered what he had stowed away. Two short knives, flint'n'tinder box, tiny bundle of coal, his journal, the ink and pen he had long since stolen from Ketill, his second kirtle, four leather thongs for his hair, food stuffs (including dried fish and sea serpent), a fishing rod, twine and bait. Over it all was laid his second, small fur blanket-cloak, which he carefully wrapped about his shoulders and secured with a black piece of twining rope.

He looked about the room and double-checked that everything was in its place and the hearth was safely clear of any possibility of wild fire. Pulling on the pack, the vaetki rose to his feet and stood there, imagining the place which he wished to see – the damaged portion of the South Wall which he had scouted out previously as a possible hiding place for short-distance transportation. Twisting his hands, letting his fingers drift down in the now familiar sigil, and chanting the short command, the vaetki felt a jolting pull from the centre of his stomach – there was a flash of green and black smoke.

He was gone.

When he opened his eyes a few seconds later (somehow they had closed of their own accord and he berated himself for his cowardice), the vaetki surveyed his surroundings, forcing down the bile and nausea that caused him to sway on his feet. Waiting for the sickness in his belly to settle, he imagined the bit of wall on the other side of the city's massive ramparts now falling into disrepair. He disappeared and then reappeared gain - now outside of Utgard. From there, the vaetki took his time, moving slowly on foot or by magic to the far bridge which crossed the Flara River a half-days journey outside of Utgard. On the last teleportation step, sharp red eyes widened as he recognized the black tall jarnvithr posts which rose about him along the sides of the wide bridge which Thyrstr had described to him in excruciating detail that one time he had gotten drunk and talked the vaetki's ear off about his hunting exploits. Head swivelling about, the vaetki took stock of his surroundings – and then without hesitation, darted southward down the road toward the lake he had always heard of from Elska and the others: Vollrvatn, Lake of the Plains.

The Flat Plains, known as the Holkn Vollr to the Jotunn, were situated south of the large Garfjall mountain range – and in the middle of its narrow western section was the large Vollrvatn Lake, into which streamed the Flara River and out of which streamed the Holdra River, which, it was said, a mighty Jotun had carved in a battle against one of the ancient Titans. These plains were wide desolate places and filled with only scrub, the hardy blakkrgras and the wild wind.

To the young vaetki, it was a glimpse of oft-wished for freedom and terrifying emptiness. Carefully, he stepped forward onto the snow, leaving the wide road, and made his way magically in short bursts down the side of the river, crouching low in the snow and trying to make as small a profile in the open spaces as possible. An hour later, when he arrived at the shores of the eternally frozen lake, the vaetki found enough energy to dig deep down into the snow, creating a small warm burrow which he hollowed out carefully as Elska had taught him so long ago –

_- when he could leave Utgard in the protective arms of the one he considered father – _

_- when he was happier – _

_Better not to think of it_, he scolded himself and he began to press down the snow carefully as he had been taught and then carefully hollowed out a deeper, harder hole below and a smaller hole for ventilation above. Afterwards, the vaetki laid several stones down which he scrounged for at the edge of the lake. On the rocks, he laid the coal and the tinder he had brought and lit the small fire, curled up by it and fell asleep.

Several watches later, the vaetki rose, tended his small fire again, ensuring that the hole at the top of his burrow remained clear before he left with his fishing gear. Scurrying over the ice in the bright starlight, the vaetki avoided the small village of huts which perpetually sat on the edge of Vollrvatn Lake, and made a beeline for an abandoned fishing hole. Several hours later, he had a fair catch – four hafnathr, eight silvrfiskr and two holkimurtr.

_Well, that was surprisingly easy_, he thought, eyeing his catch. _If I come for one night once a week, I will eat like a king every night. _He was quite pleased with himself.

Of course, the winter months passed by in their own good time and Mage Opna and the others returned in no better temper than when they had left. Nursing his new bruises, while healing the worst ones, the vaetki sighed. _Perhaps they do not love Utgard after all. Perhaps it is the place which makes them so unhappy. _

Every night, he was once again locked away in the jarnvithr cupboard in which hung several robes (which he was not allowed to "maul with his dirty paws") of office – and experience had taught him that jarnvithr, the dense wood so easily grown in Jotunheim (and nowhere else if you believed the books) dampened his magic and disallowed him from magical travel. (Teleportation, the books had said, but the vaetki did not know how to say the word.) It was a dismal stuffy prison and bred the voices of condemnation deep inside.

_Perhaps it is not Utgard at all... perhaps_, a dark voice within whispered, _it is you._

-0-0-0-

Mage Opna sighed as he read over the King's missive yet again. Laufey-King was choosing to travel to the far east to Thrymheim for the clement months, ignoring the state of the citadel once again. _When will we be released from this cursed place_, he scowled. _Tear it stone by stone to the ground and be done with it – It is under the watchful eye of Odin and his Gatekeeper, forever shadowed and it will never raise its head again. _

_But no_, he told himself, _Laufey-king is a grasping king and does not wish to part with anything that may have some kind of worth – although what worth there is to be found in Utgard nowadays is beyond me. It is nothing. _

_Nothing._

At the word, Mage Opna thought of the steadily growing vaetki who now stood three spans tall. No sign of ageing in the Jotunn fashion, of course. Still blessed with soft hair and skin – His lips quirked up and for a moment, the older Jotun considered calling the creature to him for some evening company.

The tall Jotun rose and eased open his door and peered out into the gloom. An icy eyebrow rose at the sight of the ever puny vaetki kneeling before the Under Altar head bowed and hands clasped. His jaw dropped open. _Surely not... the thing... was praying to the nattura? The... nerve..._ His eye twitched. (For a moment he saw red and all the injustices of his life reared up before his mind.) Nearly tearing his study's door off the hinges, Mage Opna stormed out, taking pleasure at the startled squeak of the impudent thing which had thought to desecrate the sacred place with its abominable prayers. _And who does it pray to anyways? Who does it think will listen? _

**[... Heimsrsal is always listening...]**

Scrambling backwards, the vaetki pressed up against the tall sides of the Under Altar (on top of which burned the eternal scents of tunglbloms now farmed by Lind). It trembled like a leaf, flinching as Opna's broad hand descended to slap it soundly across the face, sending it tumbling down the steps from the force of the blow.

The mage swivelled, didn't even have to turn, to grab the beast by its long matted hair and unceremoniously dragged it across the floor, its short legs trying to keep up and failing. Ignoring its soft whimpers of fear and pain – and the small fingers which scrabbled at the hand which jerked its head along painfully, Opna pulled it into his study. Ketill and Lind put their heads out of the storeroom and jeered something about Opna showing the little dwarve its place in life.

The thick, slightly stiff leather belt around Opna's waist was good enough – and within minutes, he had pinned the vaetki against the table and applied the leather strap to its back, over its bottom and down to its legs. A good twenty minutes later, he stopped – uncertain as to how many strokes he had applied – but it was enough.

The creature had passed out. A few seconds later, dark lashes fluttered and he gave the vaetki a few ungentle slaps before he hauled it unresisting to its feet. Stomping down the hallway, the Master Mage threw open the small cupboard and tossed the thing inside, yelling something about sacrilege and it learning its place.

"Don't feed it," he snarled at Thyrstr who nodded with disinterest. "You can keep it inside the whole day and on the second, make it work extra for its food. As soon as it gets ideas, foolishness will abound, you hear?"  
"Certainly, Mage Opna."  
"If it protests, you know what to do."  
"Of course, Mage Opna."  
"I will retire for the evening. Tomorrow, I go to the West Gate to see what can be done to partition off or build supports for the new cracks appearing in the West Courtyard pavement."  
"Very well, Mage Opna."

The Mage disappeared for the evening. After a few moments, Thyrstr rose and left for a late night drink of blakkrbjorr. The scrap of nothing locked away in the cupboard cried silently.

**[... the spirit of the realm had been stolen...]**

**[... but its soul remained strong – and it flared with anger...]**

Three months later, the Mage and Thyrstr rode to the Myrkr Skogr to receive the annual taxes due to Laufey-King from the two villages situated within its murky, gloomy depths. Mage Opna thought it was a dreadful waste of time since the entire amount collected from either village was not even enough, he thought, to buy the King a comfortable bed. _Still, I must finish this one task_, he smiled to himself, _and then I can ready myself for Gastropnir. The Dagaheim blargras is running out and Myko says that the traders from Alfheim this year are particularly generous._

Fog was drifting in now across the path and the steady tread of Thyrstr grew faint as Mage Opna dropped behind. When he came to the crossroads of two small paths, the Jotun turned to his partner only to find that Thyrstr was nowhere to be seen.

"Is it my lot in life to be surrounded by fools?" grumbled Opna to himself – and at the sound of a howl far in the distance, he gathered his fur cloak tighter about him and glared up at the canopy of dark leaves above his head. The giant, silent forest of Myrkr Skogr. Never before had it seemed so empty. And ominous.

Howling again. Closer now – and Opna, glancing about nervously, eyed the roads. _Which way did Thyrstr say again... I rarely come out this far, since it is as abandoned as Helheim_, he cursed to himself.

"Thyrstr!" His voice boomed loudly in his ears – but it could not penetrate the thick fog rolling in. "Thyrstr! Holla! You idiot! Where are you!?"

No answer. Only increasingly more distinct howling. Opna shifted uneasily and turning back down the road he had come from, he decided to return to the North Gate and then return with one of the farmers who would no doubt come to the market to trade around mid-day. _Thyrstr will be fine on his own, the hot-headed fool._

After slipping and slithering down the treacherously slippery ice path which wound downwards from the hills rolling through the forest, Mage Opna found himself puffing and panting in a very embarrassing kind of way as he eased out from under the eaves of Myrkr Skogr. Behind, he swore he could hear what seemed to be a large wolf pack coming from the depths of the forest. It was hard going thanks to the winding paths which ran up and down the hills situated to the north of Utgard. They were troublesome, but unavoidable since they spread from the uncertain ground of the Eybjarg's edge and thence eastward to make steadily higher foothills before building up into the Grarfjall Mountains.

With these thoughts in mind, Mage Opna fixed his eyes ahead of him – to the far walls of Utgard which seemed like a pinprick in the distance and he began to move quickly, abandoning the narrow roads and making a beeline across snow and stone and uncertain ground. At the sound of one long particularly long-drawn wail, he turned slowly and then began to run in earnest as the quick glance imprinted itself clearly on his mind.

A pack of thurblakulfr. Giant black wolves which roamed the far north -

**[... what lives in Utanheim but the wind, the wolves and the spirits of Jotunheim?]**

According to Ketill and Lind, these could tear a Jotunn apart before you could finish chanting the First Prayer. _What are they doing so far south?_ He spared a thought to the puzzle before focusing on the most important task at hand – getting safely across the wastes to the North Gate of Utgard. He could see the sentinel watches on the walls. Other dark shapes swarmed inside and the mage bit back a curse. _If those witless fools lock the door on me, I'll –_

Another howl. Too close for comfort. Mage Opna sped up, cursing his long nights spent reading and sleeping and not running with the others on the wastelands to the south. _Why must this happen to me_, he wailed. The large Jotunn's sense funnelled to the sound of his heart thrumming in his chest, his feet pounding over the sharp ice ignoring the cuts growing on his thick soles, the sight of the slowly growing black walls and the still open gate.

_Heimsrsal_, he prayed. _Let me make it in time._

**[... the wind carried laughter from the heavens...]**

**[... he had forgotten the creeds of all Jotuns...]**

**[... do not disrespect Heimsrsal...]**

**[... they will find you...]**

* * *

**I HOPE YOU DON'T MAKE IT IN TIME, YOU TERRIBLE CREATURE! (ahem) We'll see what happens...**

**Loki is, Earth years, about 8 years old or 9. Poor baby.**

Glossary:

Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains

Flara River – Treacherous River

Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains

Grarfjall – Grey Mountains

Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains

Holdra River – Hero's River

hafnathr – sea serpents

silvrfiskr – silver fish

holkimurtr – small flat fish

blakkrbjorr – black beer

grarulfr – grey wolves

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)


	11. Peace and Desperation

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**So... have spent an entire evening and morning tumbling Tom Hiddleston... and his Cannes appearance. And heard about the rumoured fan who jumped him. (sigh) I hope it's just a trolling thing - but I have a feeling it happened. You know... keep it up and he'll end up as a cynical actor just like the rest. This is so sad and disappointing. I'm gonna need some time tumbling long-haired Loki to cheer up. **

**Does anyone else feel the urge to apologize to Tom Hiddleston even though they didn't do it? **

**No no no don't think about sadness like this...**

**Long haired Loki. Think about that. Yes.**

**Anyways... Thanks to everyone who is hanging in there! Thanks to my lovely reviewers! Wbss21, princessofd, Immortal Sailor Cosmos... and all who fav'd or alerted me... **

**I hope this chappie is as nice as I promised!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 11  
Peace and Desperation

**[... do not disrespect Heimsrsal...]**

**[... for she will find you...]**

In the shadows, the vaetki was crouching, trying to figure out a way to steal the tempting hvaeta loaf on the table just newly made by the ever industrious Illska, when the sturdy jarnvithr door banged open revealing the familiar slight figure of Shavi, the master weaver's son. His dark face was alight with excitement and for a moment, he could not do anything but stand there and pant – until he managed to force the words out:

"Illska! You would not believe!"  
"What is it now, Shiva?"  
"It's fat Mage Opna – running like the best King's courier! And you'd not believe – a pack of great black wolves at his back! You much come and see!"  
"Ta! Shiva! Who put you up to this nonsense? If you must tell lies, at least give me a good one!"  
"No, no!" Shavi's eyes were wide. "Father sent me – he said it was worth a good laugh if nothing else."  
"Thurblakulfr are nothing to laugh at, idiot," Illska rose and made his way quickly down the main street. "Why are none going to his aid?"  
"It is a large pack!" huffed Shavi. "The like of which we have never seen!"

Together they started down the main North-South street which was now beginning to crowd with excited Jotunn.

"Did you hear, Illska?" another Jotun showed up at the two runners' elbows. It was Lind. "Seems like idiot Opna has the hounds of Helheim at his heels."  
"The Mage is your master... Have you no care?" frowned Illska as the three of them burst into the now crowded courtyard and equally crowded ramparts of the wall. Lind snorted and moved off – keeping far away from the as yet open North Gate. "Ah! They have not closed the door at least."  
"False hope," boomed another – a farmer from the north. "He will not make the gates in time. Fools. I warned Thyrstr but he said he could take care of himself."  
"Now that is true enough," Lind said. "Master Mage Opna, however..." He shrugged. "Come, I wish to see this spectacle for myself."

The more conservative Illska shook his head in mild disgust at Lind's casual attitude toward the fate of the Mage of Utgard's Gothahus. _In Dagaheim this kind of behaviour would not be tolerated..._ However, he followed the healer and pressed close to the outer ramparts to gaze over the snow. Gazing over the small white clearing before the gate and beyond to the hills of the north, Illska winced at the sight of the large pack and the steadily slowing Mage Opna.

_This is not looking good_. He glanced to the Jotuns on either side of him. _No one is foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the city._ He sighed. _Utgard is a wreck – its walls, its homes and its people... such desolation of the soul..._

-0-0-0-

At Shiva's news, the vaetki spared no thought to summon his magic and transport himself to a hidden crevice on the tall tower roof situated on the north side of Utgard's grand wall. Sharp red eyes instantly locked on Mage Opna's dark figure in the distance. A black wavering shadow of a paunchy figure slipping and sliding over the white expanse of ice and crevices. Elska had forbidden the vaetki from traversing those snowy fields and hills for a reason - it was a treacherous land to the immediate north, west and south-west. The Eybjarg was hungry.

His small feet shuffled nervously at the obvious fate of his master - rudimentary calculation and commonsense dictated the inevitable. Wrapping his thin arms around his knees, the vaetki considered the matter.

_I could transport myself there, grab Master Opna and bring him back... I could distract the wolves with a copy of myself. I have enough power for that as well. I could save him... _

_Or you could watch him die. Slowly, _a darker side muttered.

He shivered. He did not want that... _Did he?_

-0-0-0-

Opna could feel the hot breath fanning over his bared, broad back – his cloak had long since been cast off for increased mobility. Underneath, shards of ice thrust upward as he pounded across the hard fields. Every now and then, he lost the advantage to slippage and the hidden crevices which threatened to trip him up or swallow his feet. The mage kept running - eyes trained on the as yet open black gate. There were figures on the high ramparts and the sound of yelling echoed over the wasteland.

A howl sounded in his ear and somehow the Mage found another burst of energy to speed up. He was so close. Surely, he would make it. _So close._

-0-0-0-

Shutting his eyes, envisioning his master, the vaetki reached inward for his magic and then paused as a familiar warm presence pressed close, embracing him. For a moment, the cold world fell away and there was only a gentle kind of warmth and a peaceful silence as all sound faded away. _Elska?_ He whispered, hesitating.

_**Let him go, beloved mine...**_

_**He is ours.**_

At the sound of a triumphant howl, the vaetki's eyes flew open – and with wide, disbelieving eyes, he watched as massive claws and fangs rose – as lithe, giant fur legs leaped and bore down – as his Master's bellow echoed across the plain – as the cry of the Jotuns rose up unheeded by the ravenous pack – as his Master's cries finally tapered off – as the greatest wolf howled and the vaetki heard the call – and understood.

_**This one, this despoiler –**_

He is ours.

The vaetki's darker blue lips opened a little and sharp teeth flashed in the night. A long-forgotten smiled crossed his face swiftly. Before him, the snow stained a blue-black and fat flesh now ripped hastily from the bone.

_**He is ours.**_

**[... and there will be no escape.]**

-0-0-0-

From that time onward, the vaetki was shunned even more, now a creature of bad luck. Elska had nurtured it and his heart had failed. Master Opna had taken it into its home and he had been consumed by wolves. And worse, the great black wolves showed no signs of leaving, contented to prowl through the wastelands of the northern hills and the Myrkr Skogr, preying on the smaller grey wolves, wild boar and Jotun who fell into the wolves' path. Curses upon curses.

Superstition drove the inhabitants – balancing their desire and need for the vaetki's blood with the fear of its cursed touch. Almost a single great cycle of the sun passed. A half year of splendid isolation as the Jotunn runt went about its duties, largely ignored by his remaining three masters. Without Mage Opna, the little thing grew wild and fond of tricks – and its appetite, as it increased, drove it to thievery.

In the end, it was Ketill who travelled with a trader's caravan to Gastropnir to lay Utgard's case before the King. He would tell the tale of Mage Opna's fall and reveal the secret which festered at its core: the existence of a wild vaetki in Utgard.

Laufey-King would know what to do with it, surely.

With that, Ketill set out, bidding farewell to Lind and Thyrstr, glowering at the vaetki who stood in the shadows watching with its beady red eyes. _What a monster_, he shuddered. _Soon, Ketill, the insect will be exterminated. Soon._

Two months later, splendid news came from the West road – three farmers had left their work to run ahead of a slow-moving procession. A procession, they said, fit for a king. Larger than a caravan, complete with large Jotunn servant-pulled carts and the Imperial flags!

"Is it the King?" asked Elder Orn, as he left his house for the West gate.  
"We can not tell, for they did not stop to pass the time of day," replied the one farmer. "But there must be one of the Royal Family, surely..."  
"Hm. We can but hope," replied the Elder. "Go to the Gothahus and tell Healer Lind the news. He must be prepared to bring the vaetki to the Royal House as soon as may be."

With that, the Elder moved slowly up the street to gather up the City Council while the farmer ran to tell the Healer Lind the great news. Royalty had come to Utgard at last. Days of bright starlight were ahead!

* * *

**DOES HAPPY DANCE OF JOY! I have never felt so satisfied killing a character off as I did Mage Opna. I hope it was satisfactory for you as well. Pedophiles... well... let's just say... they deserve a lot of pain, if not pain of death.**

**But, um, someone from the Royal family is coming. Oh noes!**

**Update on Wednesday or Tuesday or something...**

Glossary:

hvaeta – wheat  
jarnvithr – ironwood  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
Gothahus – temple


	12. Hope Found?

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Health update: Got pills. Am taking them. It will be a good 2 weeks before I see changes. And I'm also changing my diet to something a bit more healthy because there's a high chance that I have/will have diabetes. Kyeh. Well, I'm feeling more positive already. :D**

**LAST CHAPTER GOT THE MOST REVIEWS EVAH! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are awesome!**

**To Immortal Sailor Cosmos (too true!), princessofd (yayness!), dairygirl (hope things will make more sense for you soon), TheObsessor11294 (revelation... STARTS NOW!), Double-Gemini (good prediction!), wbss21 (thanks so much for your awesomeness again!) and Raven's Dusk (yay for Heimsrsal fan!). **

**Well, this looks to be an interesting chapter. A little longer than the last one. Yep. With the introduction of...**

**You have to read on!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 12  
Hope Found?

Utgard, they say, is a symbol of Jotunn endurance, clinging as it does to the crumbling earth on the edge of forever. Tall and dark, it looms, a desolate picture of a greater time when Jotunheim had been full of life and martial vigour. Outside its gates, they also say, the cursed burns of the Biforst on bared rock mark the fall of the great Frost Kingdom – the last spot on Jotunheim where the Casket had been seen.

Outside its gates, the mark of a curse is burned – and inside its heart, a living abomination clinging to life against all odds and reason.

These were the tales of Utgard and the rumours that circulated through the rest of Jotunheim about the ancient citadel – and Helblindi, gazing up at the hidden heights of the Grarfjall Mountains, had an overwhelming desire to return there. It was, after all, the city he had roamed as a child in the more clement seasons. Before the War had come to a head and brought the metropolis low.

Utgard, a vast jungle of towers and passageways and secret vaults and forbidden caverns and chasms which could gape suddenly at your feet. Perfect for hunting games and hide-and-search. Not for the faint of heart.

But then, Helblindi had never been faint of heart – and newly ushered into the ranks of adulthood, the eldest prince had an urge to show his worth, be the shining example needed for young Byleistr, make Farbauti proud and prove right Laufey's decision to name him future King.

-0-0-0-

"He is not a True Heir," Farbauti had protested one night after Laufey had spoke of the matter with young Helblindi. His heart broke over the passing of yet another Great Tradition.  
"If I did not know better, I'd think you had an unhealthy fascination about seeing me fat," Laufey chuckled, drawing his consort closer in the wide bed of snow they shared each night.

Farbauti did not reply. Merely bent his head – and the gentle words felt suddenly awkward, the small joke falling like a stone pebble into a still pond. Ripples spreading outward...

"We will keep trying," sighed Laufey. "I have not lost all hope."  
"Perhaps if you tried with another –"  
"Nonsense," the King cut his mate off abruptly. Then, to soften his dismissal, he drew Farbauti closer, nuzzling his nose against his consort's cheek, their cool breaths shared as one. "There will only be you. I am content."  
"Sentiment," Farbauti sighed, but his lips quirked up at that. "This is a time of peace – but peace will not last forever – the Healers may have made an error... and perhaps the fault lies with me. I would not be jealous if you took another Consort. For I know I have your heart."  
"Always," agreed Laufey. Then he asked. "Do you have so little faith in your own children, love?"  
"Now that is cruel," cried Farbauti. "You know I believe Helblindi is more than capable for the task and Byleistr loves the prospect of advising the Throne." He sighed then. "But the Court –"  
"The Court can go to Helheim," Laufey snorted. "The busybodies must remember again that I am King – and if I break with Tradition, it shall be so."  
"Jotunheim's most tempestuous King. That is how you will be remembered, Laufey-love."  
"I did lead us into war – and out of it," Laufey nodded ruefully. "We paid a heavy price for my folly. Our Traditions were destroyed that day, Farbauti, when the Casket was stolen. It rendered... everything... meaningless, I fear."  
"Do not speak of the Mages," Farbauti groaned, "else I too follow you into a dark path of depression for the evening – and what shall we do then?"

They both laughed for a short time at that. Now, the King and His Consort could find some humour in their predicament. A kind of battle humour still present long after the war had been lost – a desire to find the tungleblom among the blakkrgras. To find equilibrium after the storm, to find healing after the severe crippling of their race.

Perseverance and resolution to never give up.

Utgard on the edge of the Eybjarg.

And so Laufey announced that thanks to his war wounds (Farbauti thought it was more due to the loss of the Casket), he was unable to bear a Sithr Efingi, and thus, Helblindi of His Blood and Farbauti's Womb, would continue the Line of Kings. The Court would have to be content.

And so it was.

**[... Jotunheim, how low you fell...]**

**[... trading in base coin...]**

When the Healer of Utgard's Gothahus was ushered into Helblindi's presence a few months later, the Crown Prince took it as a sign from the For-Eldra. Time to prove his worth and rid Utgard of its supposed curse forever.

-0-0-0-

Laufey-King was currently far beyond the Kaldrfjall Mountains, wintering in the Eastern Capitol of Thrymnheim._ It would be impossible for him to return in time to settle this urgent matter_, Helblindi told himself, _and apparently, the mass of country folk in Utgard have succumbed to superstitions which only leaves the King – and his Representative – as capable of dealing with the matter at hand._

"A runt," he finally repeated with disbelief. "A runt has caused unrest in Utgard? Who was so foolish as to let it survive?" Helblindi frowned in distaste at the topic.  
"The old Caretaker of the Gothahus was –"  
"It matters not," Helblindi rose and descended the short steps of the small dais he had been sitting on. "That a mere Jotun dvegr has brought an entire community to its knees in fear is a travesty which only the King can rectify. Sadly, my Royal Father is not able to come so swiftly – so I will go in his stead and deal with the matter myself."  
"Your Highness – so gracious –" Healer Ketill's relief was palpable.  
"And I will bring two mages this time to cleanse the city in a proper way," Helblindi went on, as he considered the situation. _With such superstitious folk, the Traditional Rites may ease their __worries even if it is just for show._ Helblindi nodded and then his mind was already moving on, as he began to take stock of what to do to prepare for the trip. "It will be a worthy gift for my Lord Father – the renewal of Utgard." He nodded. "Utgard."

And so, that is how the West Road came to carry the Royal Procession with great difficulty through the dangerous, wolf-ridden Grarfjall Mountains and out beyond to the vast city, the empty city, of Utgard.

-0-0-0-

Although he wished to deal with the matter of the vaetki swiftly, Helblindi had a feeling that settling in to understand the situation at hand would not be so simple. More easily said than done, for certain. There was the matter of unpacking the boxes which had to first be unloaded carefully from the great carts, clearing away the rubble from the Great Doors to the King's Hall (which had fallen recently from the opposing watch tower, Healer Ketill had said), touring the cleared Northern and Western quarters of the city and praising the master labourers who had mended the North and West walls and gates.

Not the South or East ones, however. Everyone knows that to the east and south, there is nothing but dark.

After the initial introductions between the Crown Prince and the motley group of Jotunn which were called the Council of Utgard, Helblindi was taken out for a short grarulfr hunt which was pleasingly familiar to him and was a great opportunity for the ambitious prince to show off his abilities to the rough yokels of Utgard. And future subjects. They were those as well. Running across the barren foothills now shrouded in fog and blanketed in another gentle layer of snow, which was still softly falling again, the hunters returned carefully, keeping a wary eye out for any sign of the cursed thurblakulfr. Yet, they were also in high spirits thanks to the success of the hunt – and the prospect of a great feast. For the first time in many decades, they would feast and raise a toast to Laufey-King and the Royal Family.

That night the Royal Hall was filled with cheer and food and blakkbjorr, as Helblindi focused on raising the spirit of the Jotunn who had too long been forgotten. _Tomorrow morning_, he promised himself, _I will deal with the thing._ With the vaetki now safely stowed away under the watchful eye of Healer Lind and the two mages he had brought with him.

-0-0-0-

Mornings in wintery Utgard seemed much like the night to Helblindi – gloomy and dismal. Utterly cheerless. And the city itself did not make things any less grim. Unlike the garland-decorated homes of Gastropnir or the intricately carved jarnvithr ornaments found everywhere in Griotunagardar, Utgard spoke of barren souls and minds too bent on survival to spend much time or energy on the finer things and lighter side of life. This spirit showed in the grim faces of the farmers and hunters, the muted cries of suckling babes and the stony looks of the city's guildsmen and craftworkers. The wind too spoke in a harsh voice, blowing briskly down from the icy peaks of the Grarfjall range and brought nothing but the smell of oncoming snow and the howls of wild beasts.

And from the east... nothing.

Older and wiser now, Helblindi felt the presence of the Eybjarg even more sharply than before. The threat of the Void loomed.

**[... It swallows everything...]**

**[... so hungry. It is so hungry...]**

"Bring it forward," Helblindi said calmly, eyes trained on the slight figure, thin ankles heavily shackled with jarnvithr, stumbling into the room with the firm grip of the current Caretaker of the Gothahus on its head. The Caretaker grinned. _A sturdy fellow fond of hunting and blakkbjorr_, Helblindi recalled.  
"Take care, Prince Helblindi," the Caretaker grunted as the small thing's fingers pried at his larger fingers which gripped the small skull and long, matted black hair. "It is a wild thing."

_A youngling_, Helblindi snorted. _A mere runt youngling has cowed an entire Jotun city... This is so pathetic as to be laughable..._ But the Prince set his face and presented a bland enquiring air.

"I can see that," Helblindi replied dryly. "But I –"  
"Aiya!" Thyrstr cried in surprise as a small hand stabbed into the more tender flesh of his underarms – with a small ice dagger. With surprise (he would say later) and less in fright, he shook the thing off, flinging it casually forward, nearly bashing its head on the paving stones. "The cursed thing stabbed me! Damn vaetki to Helheim!"  
"Hm," Helblindi eyed the small creature with curiosity. "The dvegr has some affinity with our ice."  
"An abomination! An abomination!" the more theatrical Mage Ikelo stiffened.

Helblindi eyed his new Court – the two mages, three healers and the City Council. Then, his red gaze lowered to the small creature which was now drawing itself slowly up – prising itself up from the icy ledge of the dais's lower step. Knobbly knees drew together and thin arms strained to raise the scrawny body up (Helblindi could count its ribs) – until it stood shakily on its own two feet.

"Leave us," he said, waving his hands.

No one moved.

"I wish to speak with it. Alone."  
"It is mute, my Lord," Healer Ketill said.  
"And witless, no doubt," added the more practical Mage Orfr.  
"Nevertheless," Helblindi said. "I wish to be alone with it."

The two Healers and the steadily cursing Caretakers left first, mumbling to each other about Mage Opna and the strange tastes of the Inner Court. Helblindi decided he did not want to know. The City Council left on their heels – but it took some more stern commands to budge the two Mages.

"We are not superstitious fools," Helblindi said, keeping his voice steady with mild reasonableness. "An accusation of murder was laid at its door and the Dead, being so entwined with it, may not receive the respect due them – unless we can prove the vaetki is indeed as witless and weak as you believe – and therefore not connected with their deaths. With a Royal Proclamation of the vaetki's innocence, the Dead are released from contamination – but only if I know for certain. I will discover the solution to this mystery – much easier done without a vicious audience around, think you not?"

Sound reasoning – and in the face of that and his indisputable authority, Helblindi got his way. _Sound reasoning – but not the only reason._ He looked down upon the pathetic creature and grunted. A_ vaetki of some years... this is unbelievable...  
_

And so he found himself alone –

Carefully eyeing the object of his curiosity.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN! What will Helblindi do? Will he find out? What would he do if he found out? How is this going to get angstier before it gets better? **  
**(because it will)  
****(you know it will)**  
**(it's me!)**

**In other news, I'm going to try to write Chapter 23-25 this week. Please wish me luck as I try to get over a massive writer's block! (winces)**

**Update on Friday/Saturday. :D**

Glossary:

Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Gothahus – temple  
dvegr – dwarf  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
jarnvithr – iron wood  
blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Storrholl – Great Hall  
manisilfr – moonsilver  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters

[at this point in time = 8-9 year old, human equivalent. Jotunn age, hair should start to fall out]


	13. Hope Lost

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**WRITER'S BLOCK SORT OF BANISHED! I got through the first painful awkward conversation between Thor and Loki. Ugh. I don't know. We'll see. And now I'm starting to find momentum again. YAY! And I started on this short fic about Tom Hiddleston and Loki. Don't ask. It's, like... almost halfway done. I'll post it up somewhere. AFF or something. And when I do, I'll let you guys know. XD**

**Onward. CAN YOU GUESS WHAT HAPPENS BY THE CHAPTER TITLE? Pull out those hankies. Well. Not yet. Maybe. We'll see.**

**Thanks to all the reviews!To... endlessvamp (reviews~ yes! yay!), wbss21 (as always, many thanks), princessofd (huggles), puretsubasa (thx!), DragonsFlame117 (don't die... yet), SpaceHead3 (sorry! another cliffie sorta up ahead!), Double-Gemini (cackle away...), Raven's Dusk (good anticipation!).  
**

**I'm so encouraged and I hope that I can keep writing something great here.**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 13  
Hope Lost

At the news of the arrival of the King – no, Eldar Orn later corrected the gossip-mongers, the Crown Prince Helblindi – the vaetki felt only curiosity, which as time passed by grew into suspicion. _Crown Prince_, he thought, _my older brother... then?_ And then more questions crowded in. _Why is he here when Utgard is not ready? Is this only because of Mage Opna – or is Laufey-King really about to return? Has he heard of me? Has Laufey-King come back for me? Will I be taken from Utgard... _

But then, Healer Lind had grabbed the vaetki painfully by his bare shoulder and dragged him to the metal-worker Hritha, who pulled his feet across the table and clapped jarnvithr shackles on them. Now, he was locked – trapped – in yet another hateful jarnvithr cupboard, curled up yet again in the dark, unable to flee his doom.

In the pitch blackness of his prison, the vaetki's thoughts turned to the faces of those who had looked down at him all his life – _if they ever looked at all..._ Horrified faces. Sneering faces. Angry faces. Always so angry. And then, fearful faces.

_None like Elska._

_Of course_, the darkness whispered. _What do you expect, you - the pitiful burden on their backs? Useless leech!_

Thin arms tightened about bruised knees.

_And you really think your brother will come to... what... save you? All night long, what do you think they are telling him?_ The thoughts descended into his deepest fears and realizations – _if your Royal Father had wanted you, he would have fetched you before now._

Burying his head in his knees, the vaetki shivered.

_You are... alone._

**[... never alone...]**

**_Dear heart..._  
**

**[... never alone...]**

Now he stood before his brother in the Storrholl of the King's Court – a great hall filled with splendid pillars, paved with the special blue-black marble imported from far to the north and east – beyond Skalldi and Thrymheim. Ornate carvings newly dusted gleamed from high above and long windows spaced evenly along either side let in intricate shafts of Jotunheim's cool morning light. The dais before him was wide and long, situated at the far end of the room before a wall now decorated with intricate banners no doubt weaved in Alfheim or Vanaheim. Several stairs high, the King's throne stood empty now... the vaetki's eyes widened – it was at least the size of his cupboard!

Crown Prince Helblindi sat on a smaller seat before it in respect. He cut an imposing figure. Amongst all the other Jotunn, Helblindi had stood out like a tunglblom on a black plain of blakkrgras. Tall, washed and well-clothed with his sharp muscles and aristocratic posture, Helblindi dominated the room in style and authority. A circlet of manisilfr around his upper arm and another intricately wrought buckle which sat on a fine belt made of Vanaheim braiding had proclaimed him the highest ranking personage in the room. The silver set off his even skin tones and matrilineal lines which swooped over his broad forehead – and the vaetki sighed in envy at the short hair obviously molting to reveal the stiff wiry under-hair and horns of adulthood.

Unconsciously, the vaetki pushed back his long unkempt mane, lingering on the flat, worn headband across his own brow. For the first time, a small seed of shame in his belly blossomed.

No horns yet. _No horns ever_, something deep within him sneered.

Then the Prince rose, straightening to his full height and, walking down the stairs, loomed over the vaetki who had to bend its head back far enough to meet the taller Jotun's eyes. Small fists clenched.

_I may be nothing_, he thought, _but if I die, I will die without tears. Elska will be proud to welcome me home._

**[... the spirit of Utgard, of Jotunheim...]**

**[... it lies in the least of these...]**

-0-0-0-

"You have caused us many troubles, cursed one," Helblindi leaned forward, eyeing the small thing. "Do you know what the mages would have done with you?"

The vaetki stared back and Helblindi smiled.

"They say you are an abomination and your blood running on the streets of this city as we stone you would cleanse this place – ah ah ah!"

Helblindi's foot moved forward, stepping on the length of jarnvithr links between it's ankles, tripping it up as the vaetki began to move back, fear in its small red eyes. For a moment, he stared down at the wildly thrashing thing. The arms, the fingers, the legs and the feet were all tiny and stunted. Ugly, yet fascinating, for it reminded him of the pictures of Asgardian children which he had read in books bought at great price from the Elves and Dwarves.

But the Asgardian children were fair-haired, where this one was dark. The Asgardian children were well-built and round-cheeked, where this one was skeletal and concave with hunger. The Asgardian children were clean and shining, where this one was beaten and dirty. The Asgardian children were like their horses – energetic, groomed and spoiled rotten. This one was a wild animal, more like a wolf than a Jotunn – full of fire, if thread-bare and half crazed.

_Witless, Mage Orfr had said. Perhaps. Mute? I think not.  
_

Judging by the low growls and hissing issuing from the vaetki, it could make noise of some kind, if no known language. Foot still not budging despite the scratching of small black fingernails along his toes, Helblindi knelt down on one knee and pulled the creature up by its unwashed hair, the better to look at it. Dirty blue skin pulled tight over thin sharp ribs, a sunken belly to match its cheeks and a low riding, threadbare kirtle which had gained a hole over one thigh. Its lines were still faint as usual with youngling Jotunn. Helblindi wondered if they would ever rise and harden. He thought not. _Not that we will ever know_, he amended. The miniscule black nails were now scratching at his arm unpleasantly and he cuffed it gently, tutting.

"You should know your betters, vaetki. Something you forgot during your impudent existence, obviously." Helblindi smiled then, "Well, at least you will die knowing that you caused an entire city to quake in fear of you. That is something at least."

At his words, there was a renewed struggle, twice as desperate, and he watched with amusement as sharp, white teeth fastened on his hand and attempted to bite through his tough hide.

"That will do me no harm, I am afraid," Helblindi laughed then. "But you can understand me. Come now, desist and let us talk together." He pushed then at the headband bound across the small forehead. "Who is your father? He must be beaten as punishment for his carelessness – if he has not already died in shame..."

The thrashing increased and the creature's ice dagger reappeared, sinking into the Prince's wide palm. Helblindi cursed, slapped it and holding its head still, dragged the binding off, revealing its matrilineal lines. For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence.

**[... silence fell...]**

**[... on Jotunheim...]**

He blinked at the lines and then, dropping the leather headband absently, his hand rose to trace the lines which ran down from the black hairline – down the small forehead and across in sweeping curves and straight lines. Helblindi knew these. Knew these like the back of his hand. Literally. They curved on his hands and up his arms. And he had traced his father's lines enough times as a child at play.

"You are –" He dropped the runt and staggered back as if hit by a blow to the chest. "You are –" Helblindi choked out with revulsion. He felt ill. Felt betrayed. Flummoxed. Uncertain.

The vaetki watched him – terrified eyes in a stoney face.

"How..." Helblindi said and then stopped trying to process it. "When..."

Silence.

_At some point in time, Father was with child... and since then he has been unable to bear one. Perhaps it happened during the War – or at the end of it. They never speak of those days but say that they paid a terrible cost. Which means... at some point, if my tutors are to __be believed, if the mages' stories are true and if Mother is right... then... this, this... this thing is the product of – of Mother and Father and the spirits of this realm. Is it possible that the blessings of the Heimsrsal belong to THIS?_ Helblindi's thoughts followed the horrifying logical truth. _This was to be the future King of Jotunheim – the future Other Soul to the Kero Fornvetr? The mightiest wielder of the Casket of Ancient Winters... They said - they said that if Jotunheim were to be blessed by the For-Eldra, a great king would come. The True Heir. Tutor Eeltha told me the King of Jotunheim would be bound to its treasure and the spirits therein... and if that is true. If that is true. Then... Then this... this thing had the potential to one day be the King to save Jotunheim and – and – it is a runt?_

Helblindi shuddered.

_This is my... brother. And he - it - IT is a runt. Why was it not slain at its birth? Obviously no one knows the truth of this matter... or perhaps Mage Opna did..._ Helblindi's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward again, watching with pleasure at how the vaetki flinched and edged back until the small back met the cold wall of the King's Great Hall. _Father and Mother think it dead. And even should it be shown to be alive... what would be the reaction of the Court? The Realm? To see the open dishonour of my father's seed... and it would not gain a peaceful existence - it would die within the week at the hand of a malcontent. It would never gain the throne... would it? This puny thing has no right to take away the birthright my father bestowed, for which I labour so hard..._

_Of course it has no right – and it __can't_, he reassured himself,_ it will be killed by nightfall and this will be nothing but a bad dream. It will never be spoken of again. _But he knew then, that this day would haunt him till he returned to the snows of the For-Eldra. Feeling more exhausted than usual, lifting the headband off the ground, Helblindi threw it back to the runt and watched as it bound its forehead, hiding the traitorous lines, the horrific truth.

_Already learning to lie and steal and fight to live_, Helblindi thought, _such an existence cannot be allowed to live. Let it taste our mercy and end its sorrowful existence as it should have done so long ago. And let it's going be honourable and within the mandate of Heimsrsal herself. Stoning... it is potentially tricky because if the lines were to be discovered... well, they must not be. Furthermore, allowing the people to riot in the streets only encourages barbarism. And going so close to the Eybjarg to toss it in the Void is the act of fools and the desperate only – and I am neither. Hmmm..._

"Mage Opna was a Jotun of some standing, did you know? I do not think you could comprehend what he was," Helblindi sighed, "considering your... upbringing. Still, you must have heard, if not seen what happened to him?"

The vaetki nodded.

"I thought as much." With that, Helblindi pulled the small one forward by its hair, ignoring its renewed scrabbling – and he raised his voice, pleased that at once everyone came pouring in. "Judgement has been decided upon," he smiled cruelly down at the now whimpering, shivering dwarf youngling. "We shall bind him and cast him into the ungentle arms of nature."

Everyone nodded and for a moment nothing was said until Mage Ikelo asked, "And what would that entail?"  
"That it know the pain of the people upon whom it had inflicted his presence, it shall be thrown to the wolves and freed to the arms of Heimsrsal herself. Let Jotunheim care of its own. It will be forgotten - and never be spoken of again."  
"We have that pack of thurblakulfr lingering to the north, may they rest in Helheim," spat one of the Council members.  
Thyrstr smiled, "A sound plan to be sure, but it shall make a poor mouthful."

There was laughter then, laughter which increased as the abomination began to struggle again. In the end, they beat it until it stopped resisting and bound its arms to its sides. Thyrstr threw it over his shoulder and the group of men strode to the north gate, discussing on how soon the thurblakulfr would catch its scent.

**[... so soon...]**

**[... they would be free...]**

-0-0-0-

Three hours later, the expedition left the safety of Utgard's walls and wound their way to the barren wastes outside to the north. As was habit, the wolves were close by that night – the few scouts sent out earlier met them with the good news that the wild horde was on its way, following the scent they had laid down. Tossing their burden to the ground, the Jotunn looked about one last time before returning to the walls. They would watch.

The Great Traditions would be upheld and Utgard would be cleansed and the suffering of the creature would be eased.

**[... Can you hear it? The voice of the wind...]**

**[... and the howling...]**

**[... they are coming...]**

* * *

**Well there you go, folks. Helblindi's decision. We'll see what happens to Loki next chapter. **

**BRING YOUR HANKIES! **

**But good times will happen soonish. Like Chap 14/15. **

**Authors Note: [This excerpt is taken from a review reply to wbss21's amazing review of the PREVIOUS chapter. I felt that I made a few important points here and if any of you are going... 'Noooooo! Helblindi! Whhhhhyyyyy?' This might help. Maybe.]**

"I did write Helblindi this way for a reason. He is reasonable and, as you say, intelligent. He's level-headed and educated as well. So, Helblindi is in a curious position. Loki could be a threat to the thone... but as you say, as a runt, would Loki really be one? I guess, I don't want people to hate Helblindi too much, whatever he chooses to do because ultimately his motivations are right (the good of Jotunheim) - but he's forced to act within the strictures of his station and society. The fact that Laufey could kill his own child for his country sets a PRETTY high standard for Helblindi as well (and not a good one IMO - not that Helblindi necessarily KNOWS his father was pregnant... but Laufey's life-long commitment to Jotunheim is pretty much scary). But Helblindi may question this at some point. That's all I can say.

The interaction between Laufey and Farbauti was important to me, I think. Utgard, I will mention later, is in a state of spiritual desolation, being the Ground Zero, as it were, of a massive spiritual... slaughter or rape. Spiritually speaking. There's a sense that the residents of Utgard, living in the shadow of their greatness, are psychologically tense all the time... and while Laufey and the rest of Jotunheim are fixing themselves up, slowly... Utgard isn't. Which is why, of course, Helblindi trucks out there.

Poor Helblindi. Biting off more than he can chew.

And of course, as you point out, despite their intelligence and civility, Farbauti and Laufey have to live with the fact that they screwed over their kingdom (although they don't know how much yet) (that will come later) (before chapter 20, I think) by killing/abandoning the True Heir - and condemning their kingdom to spiritual/magical emptiness as well as physical decay.

On the other hand, despite living a life that is literally empty of anything good and surrounded by spiritual/moral/magical/physical decay, Loki thrives. As you point out, Loki has guts. Loki has abilities - and Hiemsrsal at his back (sort of). OMG! JUST REALIZED THIS IS THE OLIVER TWIST PARADIGM! (oi vey!)"

**So, some of you might hate Helblindi now - but his part to play is far from over and he's just trying to do the write thing with devastating consequences for 1 individual. I know some countries who would consider that totally justifiable collateral damage. Which is so sad. Because ALL life is precious. EVERY ONE. But some people get the short end of the stick.**

**Next update will be Monday, or so. Soon.**

Glossary:

Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Gothahus – temple  
dvegr – dwarf  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
jarnvithr – iron wood  
blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Storrholl – Great Hall  
manisilfr – moonsilver  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters


	14. Arms of Grace

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Some sketches by moi. Um. Yeah. Not very good. At all. If you want real art for this fic... Uh... we'll have to hire some fanartists for that LOL. :P **  
**Link: i1354 DOT photobucket DOT com SLASH albums SLASH q695 SLASH scarecrowslady SLASH Fanfiction%20Fanart SLASH Vaetki-Ulfrbarn_zps2620c1cd DOT jpg**

**Hope it works!**

**THANK YOU TO ALL THE KIND REVIEWERS! To everyone hanging in there! You guys! Are the BEST!**

**Thanks to... The Soul Soldier (welcome to my dark world~), SpaceHead3 (thanks!), wbss21 (huggles), Double-Gemini (MOAH WHUMP? yes), Raven's Dusk (good thoughts as always), DragonsFlame117 (hands a hankie).**

**Just saw Star Trek Into Darkness! Wow. It was... AMAZING! I liked it more than Iron Man 3. Well, both are 2 very different stories - but there are more men to ogle in STID than in IM3. Yep. And Benedict Cumberbatch's role was amazing. And the ending was amazing. And Spock's rage was amazing. And the role reversals as compared to the first movie was amazing. And well... Just. **

**That's all I can get out. (still processing)**

**(suddenly want to write a fic about Loki waking up John Harrison for the heck of it)**

**And speaking of John Harrison - points to anyone who can see the correlation between Harrison and Helblindi. Just saying.**

**OK. Onto the story. TAKE OUT THOSE HANKIES! I got a few moist eyes writing this... so... yeah. And um, listen to The Village OST while reading to get full emotional devastation. Or not.**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 14  
Arms of Grace

He woke to dark. Dark which slowly lightened – the white spots little by little sharpening to pinpricks of starlight and the great moons which rose over Jotunheim. Sound and smell clashed just seconds before – fresh wind, clean snow and a wolf's howl carried on the whistling wind of open spaces. The wastelands. Red eyes widened as comprehension set in.

The smell of tanning leather, treated jarnvithr wood, hot loaves, bitter oil and smelting iron was absent – as was the sight of tall, crumbling towers and walls. He was _outside_.

Shifting his badly bruised limbs, the young Jotunn whimpered as sharp gouging pains lanced up his right arm to his shoulder and through his torso. His arm – the fingers weren't moving as well as he would like. It was confusing. Disorienting. Then, the vaetki remembered the day Elo had broken his arm in the lower foothills of Grarfjall Mountains. For a month, it was bound until the bones knit inside (so said Healer Lind) and the arm was straight. Healer Lind had said that in the old days, magic worked through heillgrjot could have healed it in a matter of moments. Then the healer had sighed at the blank expression on the vaetki's thin face and sent it off, grumbling about witless fools, little knowing that the youngling had read of such magicks before and had only just practised the most basic spell less than a fortnight ago on a set of broken ribs he had acquired thanks to a drunk Thyrstr.

_So_, he thought, forcing down the panic which rose and curled about in his belly like a sleeping dragon. _A broken arm_. A broken arm – tied tightly to his other. And his legs... The vaetki shifted, rolled onto its stomach and discovered that the shackles around his legs had remained. Another stabbing pain up his left leg. Close to his foot. No doubt injured as well.

Whimpering quietly, the small Jotun curled his knees underneath him, gaining enough leverage to force himself painfully upward onto his knees and from there to his feet. Wind at his back – nearly knocking him down again – the vaetki began to shuffle back to the walls of Utgard, swaying from side to side. Tall and dark, the ramparts stood in the distance – they looked so far away – but that was more than likely due to his poor vision. One eye had swollen shut and the other had trouble focusing. The world blurred, sharpened, blurred and then sharpened as it's left foot stepped forward a little too forcefully. He bit back the loud cry which threatened to burst from his throat.

He was strong. He would not cry. He would not cry. Crying helped nothing.

Nonetheless, tears rolled down his cheeks silently and from split lips spilled heartfelt promises in his broken grasp of the Jotun tongue. Barely intelligible with a hoarse voice so long disused. So long unheard.

Unheard even now – for the wind whipped the words away and broke them as breadcrumbs along the wasteland so not even the keenest ear of the Jotunn could hear him beg.

**[... but Heimsrsal heard...]**

**[... she hears all...]**

"I will be good."

_I promise_. _I will be whatever you wish me to be and never complain. I will do whatever you wish me to do and not fail_._ Father... Brother..._

The vaetki shuddered as another gust nearly knocked it down on its face and for a moment, he lost his footing on a rough patch of ice, nearly pitching down the hill – but long years had honed his reflexes and he managed to gain his balance. At the cost of leaning to hard on his left foot. A definite cracking sound then. Gasping in pain, nearly bent double, the vaetki shuddered to a stop.

_Please..._

**[... she will always hear...]**

**[... for this is her heart...]**

-0-0-0-

"One feels rather sorry for the poor little thing," sighed Kelda.

Illska glanced over at the metalworker and raised an eyebrow. Kelda was with child, and that sometimes meant a kind of protectiveness was aroused in preparation for the long care of his child. He grunted as he turned to watch the small figure stagger forward.

"Hm."  
"It should have been put down a long time ago," Kelda went on with a frown. "Quietly and quickly. Then these barbaric measures would not have to be taken."  
"A shame, indeed," Mage Orfr nodded. "The parents should have been found and punished for their neglect. Letting a thing like that live shows poor care for the souls of their children. I am surprised it did not die earlier as most do."  
"I dislike how cavalier we take this kind of thing," Illska finally said. "In Dagaheim, these kinds of things are dealt with in a more efficient manner, often before they are even born."  
"To regain the city, however," Kelda sighed, "the Prince must show his ability to deal with such problems and to stand firm in the Old Ways. The Forn Vegr demands much from its people and often at the cost of our hearts. But in truth I do not know if I like it..."  
"Now, that is the babe talking," Mage Orfr chuckled. "I got that way when I had Aklo..."  
"Hm," Kelda said, not amused.  
"Still," Illska had to point out. "I am impressed by its endurance – a surprising will to live – and even now, it is attempting to escape its fate. An attitude that has long since become rare in this Realm, since the Lengi Orfrithr and the loss of the Casket."  
"It is surprising to see it in something so young and forsaken," Mage Orfr agreed and then started at a familiar face standing suddenly beside him. "Ah, my Prince, I did not see you there."

It was the Crown Prince still looking stern and august despite his young age, his red eyes trained sharply on the small figure trudging back to the wall.

"You were saying?"  
"Ah," Mage Orfr smiled. "Just noting the perseverance of the vaetki. A testimony in a strange way to Jotunheim and more specifically, this city, Utgard."  
"Yes," Helblindi nodded slowly. "Dvegrs, I hear tell, do not live past their first hour of life or their first year. Witless and disabled, gifted or no, there is no strength within them... This one however..."

A pause. Then, softly: "His parents may find pride in his strength and courage – and the nattura look on all of us, large and small, with love. They will take him as they should have long ago before he shouldered the burden of this life." Helblindi smiled at Kelda. "Weep not, for this is a kindness."

He clasped the shorter Jotun briefly on the shoulder before moving on down the rampart.

The rest had nothing to say. They watched. They listened to the wind and shivered as the howling grew louder.

-0-0-0-

Long ago, before the Casket had been taken from its remote tower, the Aldinn Stathr, for its more bloody and violent use in the Long War, it had provided the life blood of the ancient kingdom of Jotunheim – the source of all life and, more importantly, magic. It was at that time that Jotunheim was filled with so much variety as to be a thing of legend now. In those days, they say, the hills were filled with the hardy skordyr, Jotunheim's version of goat, grarulfr, thurblakulfr and many other creatures both large and small. Many survived even to most recent times on the far side of the Realm known as Utanheim, but in the lands and the wastelands lying between and surrounding the cities of Utgard, Griotunagardar, Gastropnir, Thrymheim and Dagaheim, all that remained were bear, wolf and the occasional jarnkottr, iron-cats, which were captured immediately and partially domesticated.

Of the wild animals, the jarnkottr was the most dangerous, although with time some kind of an understanding between slave and master could be reached. With the thurblakulfr, there was only distrust and animosity. Dominating the lands north of Dagaheim, the thurblakulfr never attempted to breach the Jotunn city walls – but neither were they afraid to wreck waste on the countryside and the unfortunate farmer too isolated to receive aid in time.

A keen-minded creature, the thurblakulfr appeared to have systems within their clans – and a distinct awareness... some kind of sentience within the packs, which Jotunn dyrspeki had studied for centuries. Despite their careful watching and cautious note-taking, no real understanding had formed between the Jotunn academics and the great black wolves. The thurblakulfr seemed to answer to no one but themselves...

**[... and they understood who owned the winds of Jotunheim...]**

Jotunn feared them – and the Northern Gates were closed this evening as a large bulk of Utgard's inhabitants came out to watch the end of the curse which had lived among them.

It was time.

**[... they were coming...]**

-0-0-0-

No matter how loud the howling grew, the vaetki struggled on, teeth clenched and body vibrating with pain. It knew now that there was no hope – the gate was locked shut, the shackles on its feet and the binding on its wrists precluded any use of magic. Neither could he run, nor dig deep enough into the snow – for the ground was too close to the surface here and would provide no real protection.

His words had dried up – and his tears. There was only a deep exhaustion left – a heavy ache, which he could not name.

**[... Elska would have told him...]**

**[... it is called grief – a breaking heart...]**

Exhaustion and a quiet determination. He would not die like a squealing wild boar. Like Mage Opna.

_Elska_ – he thought –

He could feel the earth shake a little under his bared feet and the ice sheets cracked.

_Elska_ – he thought –

A keening call which spoke of bright moons and wild days underneath the stars and the sweep of empty land and nothingness and death. The wind flew past him, whipping long black hair in a dark curtain forward. Hot breath on his neck. Hard teeth clamping down on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground.

_Elska_ – he thought – _I will see you soon._

Dark blood oozed out onto the pale snow as he was tossed across the ice to land by a particularly large black paw. Pain engulfed his senses, but the vaetki bit down on his tongue silencing sounds of pain. The taste of iron filled his mouth. He would not cry. Bright eyes, which glinted in the dim light of the setting cold suns, and a wide, black-furred head blotted out the starry sky. The vaetki gasped as the gaping maw leaned forward, opened and then closed around his pinioned arms and torso. Underneath the fur, he could see nothing now but dark –

Sound returned as he was hefted up and there was a flurry and surging of claw and fang and fur and then...

He was gone.

-0-0-0-

Watching from the city wall, Prince Helblindi said nothing. Said nothing as he gazed at the patch of dark blood which stained the snow. There was no sign of the vaetki. To the people, that was good enough – the curse which had inflicted itself on their lives was gone, but the Prince was nonplussed. _Was it dead? Or no? _

_What do I tell Father?_ He thought. _There is nothing to say... _

_So say nothing_, another part of him pointed out.

Still, he stood there for quite some time – long after everyone else had trickled back to their early evening duties and business. He stood there, alone, on the ramparts and remembered sharp, red eyes and a wilful spirit.

_It... _It seemed wrong to refer to such a brave soul so callously._ And do we not all have souls? _Helblindi wondered._ No, he earned his place with the For-Eldra - he faced his doom with courage and pride._ Helblindi paused and listened to the wind. _He is one of our blood - and blessed by Heimsrsal herself. And perhaps his story is not over... __ If there was anyone who would survive the thurblakulfr,__ he would_.

So, Helblindi gazed across the snow and watched a new snow flurry cover the dark stains of a cursed... brother's... blood.

"Little Brother," he whispered. "Be free."

**[... stood in silence...]**

**[... Jotunheim fell into...]**

-0-0-0-

In the morning, news came from the village of Myrkr Skogr, long cut off from Utgard and glad to bear the city good news. Sometime in the evening, they said, the pack of thurblakulfr had thundered past and disappeared into the north. Why, they did not know, but there was no sign of them – and even better evidence showed in the hesitant return of the grarulfr into the foothills of the Grarfjall Mountains. A cry of joy rose up in the great city. Hope had returned.

It was a good day for Utgard.

* * *

**Well... he's gone~ Thank goodness. They so do not deserve him.**

**Let me know what you think! Update will be around Wednesday, I think. **

**Author's Note: A few things to clear up. Laufey has only birthed Loki in this fic. This is (or may not be) NOT PURE NORSE MYTHOLOGY. AT ALL. This is all me and my silliness and doing what I want a la Loki - because I think Marvel MCU-verse is very much its own beast and we should respect that. In this story, Farbauti is the Mother of Helblindi and Byleistr, making them Princes - but NOT Crown Princes (traditionally speaking) Of course, we all know what has happened to tradition on Jotunheim. (aka DED in most ways) **

**And as for the TRUE HEIR. There are a bunch of requirements that I will elaborate on LATER (this is a slowly unwrapping story and I'm the type of author who withholds info sometimes)... but we already got a few hints, if you read VERY CAREFULLY. I have stated that a True Heir needs to be born of the King himself/herself (in this situation, Laufey). Which Loki has been. Age relation to other siblings does not matter. Parentage does. That's the basic Jotunn standard for True Heir. Which Laufey had been at one point.**

**But to be a really really great True Heir there a few other (forgotten) requirements... such as the conception is blessed by Heimsrsal, the Casket power seeps into the growing cells, and the child has natural innate magical abilities. Loki meets all requirements. Now... the fact he is a runt... well, there's a mystery there, which will... unfold... in time.**

Glossary:

heillgrjot – healing stones  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
dyrspeki – zoologist


	15. Healing Paths

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thank you so much - this shoutout is to all those who have favourited or started following this fic! Thanks for reading - and always feel free to chat - even if it's just ranting about Loki and/or Tom Hiddleston hotness (long-haired or not). :)**

**Also a big thank you to those who did review! LOL. To DragonsFlame117 (huggles), TheObsessor11294 (all shall be revealed...), wbss21 (good luck with the feels!), princessofd (hope you can keep smiling!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (so glad you're still here!), tinyBrocks (read MOAH now!). :D**

**Onward!  
**

**Oh.**

**Before you start reading.**

**You may want the map on hand.**

**http: SLASH SLASH i1354 DOT photobucket DOT com SLASH albums SLASH q695 SLASH scarecrowslady SLASH Fanfiction%20Fanart SLASH labelled-JotunheimmapFINAL_zps04751133 DOT jpg**

**Be sure to check it out and refresh your memory. You can zoom in on it too - so go ahead and enjoy~! (Also, right-click to download and keep for yourself. Ha.)  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 15  
Healing Paths

The fields of Dagaheim lie fallow in the winter under a permanent layer of ice and several meters of snow. The small, northern capitol looks across them nervously at the narrow chasm and the lake and beyond their sight, the distant Eybjarga Skogr – a forest which hangs on the edge of forever. It is a forest which had lasted eons of winter... before succumbing to the legendary Rift – falling into the slowly growing Eybjarg, losing three-quarters of its might to mark the beginning of the destruction of Jotunheim.

**[... When did it first start? No one seems to truly know...]**

That will all change.

They say, one day, a King will be born to Jotunheim – a being of great power, the Sithr Efingi, the True Heir, who will stand as the Bastion Against The Void and heal the land once again. So they say.

If one believes the tales of witless giants.  
If one has hope.

**[... even without the Casket, there is still hope...]**

**[... there is still... hope...]**

And so the Jotunn of Dagaheim till the ground in the last moon cycles of the winter season – but with half an eye on the horizon. It is, after all, across these plains, during the late winter, that the thurblakulfr come running – from the east to the west and then beyond to the Utanheim, the Outer Realm. For the Eybjarga Skogr calls all wild things – and it is said that those who disappear into its pathless ways are never seen again. Yes, Utanheim is a wild place where no Jotunn cities lie and is only traversed by the most hardy (foolhardy, some would say) Jotunn hunter-trader.

The only other way to Utanheim is by the ever winding East Road which leads from Thrymheim and ends in the Offaer Skogr. Beyond stretches the wastes, the lakes, the mountains, the fjords and all manner of empty lands filled with wild creatures and starlight. Here, Heimsrsal's voice rings out purest –

**[... for they are silent who would listen...]**

**[... Are you listening?...]**

Journey-hardened paws ran over the frozen waters of the Myrkyregvatn – the long, thin lake north of Mykyr Skogr with its accompanying, smaller lakes to its west, hard by over Utgard's North Road which ran upwards to Dagaheim. Without rest, they moved through the night, raising their voices in a clarion call – for they had gone hunting and had found their prey. The small creature, still hanging limply in the pack leader's mouth, had long since fallen silent, but with the intuition of all living creatures close to Heimsrsal's heart, they knew that it breathed still and its pulse beat strong.

Thundering along, the pack of fifty wolves or more moved through the night without rest until they had passed under the eaves of the Eybjarga Skogr. The pace slowed then, but none came to a halt – and small snaerharra, sneaky melrakki, and restless herds of villrkyr watched with trepidation as the pack approached, scampered out of its way and then returned as the thurblakulfr rumbled by. The Eybjarga Skogr was not dead, after all. Besides many creatures, Jotunheim's hardy plant life grew. Blakkrgras, jarnvithr, tunglblom and the more rare hota-eik and silvralmr thrived, yet the danger of becoming prey to thurblakulfr deterred many Jotunn from venturing too far within.

Here, the vaetki would be safe.

-0-0-0-

Hluti was as old as the hills, the traders in Utgard and Gastropnir said. As old as the hills and as crazy as an old she-goat. The ancient hunter with skin as tough as wild ox hide and a skull as thick as a jarnkottr travelled the Utanheim, bringing to the capitols unbelievable tales of majestic mountains and plunging depths and fairytale creatures. Nonsense, of course. Anything Hluti said was utter babble... Hluti heard _voices_.

"Don't look at him," the townspeople of Dagaheim whispered to their younglings. "And don't speak with him... Who knows where you'll end up then?"

With each fair season, Hluti returned to Innaheim, pack full of furs and rare elm and white oak saplings – the promise of rebuilding the Eybjarga Forest in a fairer place. The north-eastern city of Snjarhamr, slumbering before the foothills of the Offaerdalr close by the Jathar Skogr, had committed to planting new jarnvithr and silver elm and white oak in an effort to raise the forest anew. And each year, Hluti bore ten roots and tender branches swaying atop his massive sack of fur and bone and claw securely strapped to his broad, scarred back.

"Don't look him in the eye," the townspeople of Snjarhamr whispered to their younglings. "That one looked into the Eybjarg one too many time... Don't you remember – the Eybjarg is by the cursed city of Utgard – the chasms of forever. Fall in them, and your spirit will never find its way home to the For-Eldra."

Such tales were not entirely true, however. Long years of loneliness in the wilderness, gazing up at the starlight with nothing but the wind of Jotenheim to keep him company, Hluti had stared into the expanses and, upon returning to the small villages and large capitols he no longer called home, the quiet hunter had discovered that the glittering world of Innaheim had gained a superficial gleam, a smattering of tarnish. For things once sacred were now profane and the gestures of the Mages and the Rites of the King and the Great Traditions were now meaningless. Hunter-Trader Old Man Hluti made the city folk uneasy, for his clear eyes saw far and deep.

The Casket was gone and the world of Jotunheim languished at its core.

And it was that time of the year again. As the massive pack of thurblakulfr moved its surefooted way through the forest, Hluti sat in the shelter of a small hill by the north side of the Grjotvatn Lake, contemplating his upcoming treacherous trek to Dagaheim through the Eybjarga Forest now at his back. The boughs of the elms and oaks creaked ominously and broken boughs cracked as the smaller woodland creatures scurried through the snow and ice and fallen leaves and bracken. Wind rustled through the luminous tunglbloms which cast a strange glitter on the reflective leaves of the silver elms. Hluti cocked his head.

"Eh?" He mumbled to himself – _no_, he thought, _not to myself. To her. She's always listening_. "You must speak louder if you wish me to hear," Hluti poked at the small pit of fire he had built, upon which he was currently boiling some black broth of tunglbloms and white oak sap. A putrid concoction, but incredibly invigorating for the long road ahead.

_**Wait... he is coming...**_

"Who?"

_**He is coming...**_

Hluti grumbled. _Things can never be simple, can they?_

-0-0-0-

As the cool suns rose over the edge of the world, Hluti rose and stretched and listened once again. There was a stillness in the air – a watchfulness. A silence. At the edge of the lake, he caught fourteen holkimurtr, deciding to break his fast with fish.

"Your guest will be hungry, Hluti, depend upon it," he told himself as his hands busily sliced the silver fish open and gutted them deftly. "You watch – in a matter of moments, there will be company and what do you think they will be asking for but some kind of tea and broth and fish and whatnot. Perhaps they will have been lost for days on end and on the brink of starvation – and what then? You will have their deaths at your door because you could not catch a few fish?"

As he was laying his catch in the icebox of the small hut he had built into the side of the hill so many years ago, Hluti heard a distant rumble. At first, the ancient woodsman wondered if he had read the signs wrong (again) and rain was coming.

"That would be odd, Hluti," he shook his head, scolding himself. "At this time of year? What are you thinking?"

But the sound did not abate. It was not his imagination. The Jotunn scrambled out of the low hut which had been built into the hill and downwards into the ground – and peering past the smoke now rising from the hillock, where the small carved hole allowed it to escape his home, he recognized large furry shapes bursting out of the forest without warning. Grabbing his spear which stood ready in a mound of snow by his door and clenching the haft in his firm grasp, Hluti tensed – and then blinked as the pack began to part, some running east, some west – none approaching him.

"Now, then," he sighed. "If it was to be wolves, beloved mine, could you not have sent me some Jotunn first to prepare for them?" Hluti shook his head and then stilled as a large, black and silver furred thurblakulfr approached and slowed to come before him. "You are the Pack-Father?" The trader-hunter asked, trying to keep his voice calm and firm, but not aggressive. "I wish you no – oh..."

The giant head lowered and it's jaws opened releasing a bundle of blue skin and bones, judging by the awkward angle of the left foot and right arm, broken bones. _A starved thing. A __starved youngling? Yes. Yes._ Hluti thought. _A starved youngling. But a small one. Too small..._ He forced down the horror that rose in his gut at the sight of the bruising, the swollen face, the bound hands and shackles. _A runt. A lagreinn. Vaetki. A nothing belonging to no one._

_**No**_, the wind whispered. _**Mine...**_

"Well," Hluti lowered his spear and edged forward, glad to see that the leader of the pack was likewise stepping back. "I guess those fish will come in handy then."

-0-0-0-

It was a simple matter to bind the bones, wipe away the blood and tend to the cuts and bruises with the ointments which he always carried with him for such emergencies. The irons were easily unlocked with two metal pins more often used for skewering and the thick rope around its hands and scrawny neck – a reminder of a time when it had been owned by someone – was cut away gently.

"Someone loved you enough to keep you alive for a little while," Hluti sighed. "Unkind – unkind – but, even more so, to toss you away when your usefulness ended. Such beasts live in those cities, beloved mine. Such beasts."

At some point in the night, young red eyes fluttered open and the wolf by the door yipped in warning, at which Hluti bolted upright and to attention in enough time to stop his young charge from attempting to scrabble out the front door. Despite the fact that it had broken its arm and leg, the puny creature seemed rather agile – thrashing, scratching, biting, until Hluti pinned it with one arm against his chest, while his other reached about for some elm branches to raise the fire with. After a few moments, the flickering light grew and he was able to look down at the small black head resting against his own strong sternum.

Cutting fingernails scrapped along the backs of his hands and before he could say anything – anything to calm the creature down – a tiny ice dagger grew in its palm and it was stabbing downward at his forearm, while simultaneously growling as its puny teeth bit into his hand. Hluti's chest shook like an earthquake as laughter rose from his belly – and at the sound, the runtling's struggles ceased and it cocked its head in silent query.

"Come now, lagreinn," he said. "Let us have none of that now. Beloved mine would be angry at us both, I think, if we quarrelled over long. Look, bite this fish instead, for it is less leathery than this old cow." Here, he placed a short strip of fish temptingly by the fire. It was raw – but that was the traditional manner of things, before the elves and Aesir had come with their fire and their mannerisms and styles of cooking. The shrunken belly of the lagreinn grumbled loudly and Hluti smiled then, knowing he had won this argument.

"See, you cannot hide it now, come and eat and let us talk."

He doubted it would speak – but that was fine. Hluti could talk for the both of them – and Heimsrsal herself could fill in the rest. Letting go carefully, he lay the lagreinn on the stone paved floor of his tiny home and watched it with pity as its trembling hands snatched up and held close the strip of fish flesh with wonderment and disbelief. Hluti clucked his tongue and shook his head. _Does the little one not know what a fish is? Or is it a matter of not understanding such a simple act of charity? Either way..._ The hunter-trader sighed and put the thoughts away to consider another time.

"It's a fish, now," Hluti said, adopting the scolding tone of an Elder he had loved to hate in Dagaheim. When he was young. "You should know what a fish is – and you'd best eat it slow. Come. Eat –"

Suspicious eyes rose to meet his and then glanced down - Hluti reached forward, thinking to cut the hefty chunk of meat into small pieces, but the long piece of white-pink fish-flesh was suddenly hugged to a bony chest protectively and angry growling-hisses emerged from the young one. Hluti leaned back and laughed then.

"Have it your way then, lagreinn. And when you are finished that, drink this nasty brew," here, he set down his smallest bowl full of the tunglblom and white oak concoction. "'Twill invigorate you like nothing else, little runtling."

Without a word, the lagreinn wolfed the fish down, trying to obey Hluti's command and eat smaller bites – and totally failing. Eyeing the small one's now rounded belly, Hluti gave it some of his draught and watched with something akin to amusement as the lagreinn fell asleep again mid-way through his second bit of fish, small cheek pillowed on the fish clutched possessively in his hand. A protective measure. _No longer necessary_, Hluti told sleeping one. _No longer necessary. _Carefully lifting the weightless child up, Hluti laid the lagreinn in his robe-cloak of furs, uncertain if it felt comfortable in the usual cold bed of snow.

"Let us see how you feel after some more sleep," he said. "And there is that matter of what in Jotunheim she wants with you." Hluti shook his head. No one was going to believe this.

No one did.

-0-0-0-

After a week of steady eating, the small one, on a morning rose to his feet, leg and arm apparently as good as new. Hluti said nothing, for he had seen enough – the way the black wolves lingered close by, yet peaceful still, the whisperings of the wind and the telltale sparkle of green which wafted from black fingernails when the lagreinn thought he wasn't watching.

_He is bursting with magic_, Hluti thought. _And that is why... that is why he belongs to her..._

**[... all belong to her, but some more than others...]**

Three days passed afterwards. One night, Hluti brought out a rough pick and managed to bring the wild mane of the lagreinn back to some kind of semblance of neatness. _Lagreinn. That isn't his name anymore_, Hluti smiled. _Not really. He is her child – and he is free as he ought to have been from the start. _

"Well, probably you were meant for greater things, ulfrbarn," he mumbled to himself as he smoothed the black hair down and then, displaying his small knife carefully so as not to frighten the nervy youngling, Hluti began to cut the ragged ends. Each cut jerked awkwardly at his head, but the ulfrbarn did not cry or complain.

_He is used to deeper pain than this_, the old hunter thought. And he remembered the night before last when he had pulled the ulfrbarn onto his lap and had discovered to his shock that behind those empty red eyes, there was no hidden innocence. Hluti had stilled the wandering hands then and shook his head, pressed the child to his side and mourned for his people. _To let a lagreinn live was cruelty, but to take advantage of his life in such a way..._ It made him ill. _How low have we fallen, beloved mine_, he whispered then, aloud, and smiled down at the ulfrbarn, trying to comfort the confused red eyes which met his. Hluti had smiled. Somehow.

"You are free now," he whispered to the youngling as if it was a secret. "And even if I spoke of you, they would not believe this..." He traced the small hands which could heal and summon fire and change their hue at will. "You belong to her... she wants you to go. And I must also leave..." A pause. "We may never meet again, ulfrbarn – but perhaps, one day, we will meet again... in the company of the For-Eldra."

The lagreinn's eyes rose sharply then, as comprehension set in. A small hand rose hesitatingly to Hluti's chest and magic flowed into the old Jotunn's skin probing gently.

"Elska..." whispered a small voice, just slightly lisping.  
"Elska? Is that your father?" No answer. "Well, it matters not." The hand did not move, until Hluti gently took it in his own larger one. "I am not ill, little one," Hluti reassured the wolf's child. "But time is shorter for me than it is for you – and you will travel far... It is what she wants. Beloved mine has plans for all of us, you understand. You just need to learn to listen to her." Hluti gave the small one a secretive smile – and that was the end of it.

The next day, he packed his bag – his furs, his well-pressed blossoms, his bone and claw and rare animal skull and a small portion of fish and six bottles of his draught and the swaying saplings over all. Large eyes in a too thin face watched him silently and he bent down to kiss the ulfrbarn on the brow, presenting it with a small dagger (small to him, but a hefty sized weapon for a youngling of its stature) and half of a gray wolf's pelt with an awkwardly attached rope which had been threaded through a small hole at the top corners to fasten the square fur firmly under the youngling's chin. And there were five fish left by the fire.

Hluti sighed. His work here was done. It wasn't enough. It had to be enough.

_**Thank you...**_

"You are much welcome," he smiled down at the ulfrbarn. "The both of you." The hunter paused at the sight of the pack still dotted about the edge of Grjotvatn. "All of you," he grinned widely then, red eyes empty with nothing but starlight and ice and wind. "I won't forget any of you. Old Hluti won't. No, he won't."

And he went off, mumbling.

Behind him, there was only silence.

**[... but not really...]**

**[... the silence of Jotunheim is broken by a wolf's cry...]**

* * *

**Hluti is an accidental character... but he was awesome to write. What do you think?**

**Let me know~!**

**So, uh, for those who don't mind RPF stuff - I'm writing a fantastically humorous/angsty fic called 'The Mortal, the Jotun and the Wardrobe'. LOLZ. You can read it on my Tumblr if you like (kakashidiot DOT tumblr DOT com). Other sites too (pm me for details). Good times. Basically: "Tom Hiddleston can't sleep one night - and finds a door in his wardrobe to another world. And it isn't Narnia." LOL.  
**

**Also! **

**Am toying with the idea of inserting a chapter after this one that is just about details of a day living with the wolves. Um. Yeah. So. If I do decide to go ahead and insert a previously unplanned chapter, one which I haven't written yet, and allow us to have a bit of emotional down time, I may be a bit latish with the next update. Maybe Sunday. X.X**

Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies  
blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass  
Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist  
Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)  
fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways  
Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar  
hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat  
Innaheim – Inner Realm  
jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood  
Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage  
lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest  
Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star  
silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard  
vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	16. Wild Days

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Just survived a visa-related medical exam. UGH. This 31-year-old virgin does not appreciate having to do ECGs which involve baring herself before her coworker. GAH. If I could erase the past 3 hours, that'd be great. Just great.**

**So here we go - the unexpected wolf chapter. Uh. A sorta doggie pile happens? Sorta? I hope you like anyways! My thoughts on the matter are as follows: http: SLASH SLAHS kakashidiot DOT tumblr**** DOT **com SLASH post** SLASH **52225426011** SLASH **distortions-in-time-chapter-16  


**THANKS TO ALL MY REVIEWERS AND PEOPLE WHO FAV'D AND ALERTED MY STORIES! To: endlessvamp (you'll see~), Double-Gemini (2 more names to go!), DragonsFlame117 (here's to hoping that this fic will only improve!), wbss21 (you're teh awesome!), alchino (foresee BAMF!Loki up ahead!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (totes right - Loki's time to shine!), Thay-Logyn (welcome!) and princessofd (thank you!). **

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 16  
Wild Days

A broad, white plain of snow unmarked save by soft ridges formed by the ever capricious wind. No Jotunn had traversed this place for a long, long time. These were the long-forgotten paths, the white, frosty wastelands of the Utanheim. Of Jotunheim's Outer Realm, populated by no civilized kind except that of beasts and all wild things that are.

**[… here…]**

**[… silences hold fast…]**

**[… but not entirely so…]**

The wind whistles and howls as it rushes past unhindered and then it comes to a flat, blue-black sheet which spreads as far as the eye can see. White snow and blue-black ice meet a fair sky this morning – and the cold suns' pale light glow lightly on the fields of tunglblom and ovarmorn blossoms which grow along the edges of the Great Ice Shelf, the Svelshelf of the Utanheim.

**[… the skies are empty…]**

**[… on Jotunheim…]**

Look closer.

**[… what is that call carried on the voice of the wind?]**

Standing on the edge of the desert-like ice shelf, feet planted firmly, dwarfed on either side by two thurblakulfr, the ulfrbarn braced himself into the wind. Black hair whipped forward like a tattered flag and bright, red eyes stared out over the short expanse of ice before him. Behind lay the Svelshelf – a vast plain of frozen cold beneath one's feet – rising to meet the blue horizon and the great cold suns edging up over the world as it seemed.

And before him… a few steps forward and his toes hung slightly over the edge of the Svelshelf and the rocks below it which hung downward. _Downward_. The ulfrbarn felt it – the pull – the nothingness calling – the Void –

This was the edge of his world.

"Not really," he answered himself, his unspoken thoughts, softly. Words whipped away with the wind into the Void never to return. "You know already, Storr-Fathir, do you not?" He asked the Pack-Father of the great thurblakulfr clan. "All the edges of this Realm have felt the weight of your paws."

… _**we roam far indeed…**_

… _**little one…**_

… _**our ancestors before and our descendants after us…**_

Hot breath accompanied by a short growl fanned over his neck in warning as the wild Jotunn runt craned his head and leaned over to look further down. Nothing met the eye. Nothing. Nothing but expanses of a blackness lit with stars and faint light and gaseous clouds.

The Void was nothing. It was empty. And yet… And yet, he knew (here, he shivered), _it is not. It is always hungry._ He remembered Elska's warnings and Mage Opna's curses. _The Eybjarga is always hungry. _

Edging back carefully, the ulfrbarn moved away, one step at a time. He was no one's fool.

He did not turn his back.

-0-0-0-

North of the Svalshelf, if the ancient maps in Utgard's Gothahus which the ulfrbarn had memorized so long ago were to be believed, a massive lake lay complete with an unreachable island toward one end of it. Sure enough after several short sun cycles, the pack arrived on the shores of Vithrivatn Lake. Around its edges, clumps of trees and bushes grew together as well as broad swaths of blakkgras. There, on the west side of the expansive lake, the ulfrbarn cast a line for fish.

It was Hluti's old fishing stick which he had left behind with an old pack made of coarse sacking. Inside, the ulfrbarn had packed what the Hunter-Trader had left for him – a rather worn tinder box cracked at one end, an ironwood bowl and ladle-spoon blackened with fire heat, seven lumps of blakcol, two rough pieces of fabric which could be swathed about his middle, a ball of rough twine, a neat, round, grey whet stone and a small pocket-knife. The small-pocket knife was his own – fashioned from a bit of left-over jarnvithr stacked in Hluti's hut and sharpened on the whet stone. Everything was packed inside the course pack and then bound with its various straps about his chest digging into pale skin and boney shoulders.

The broad wolf-fur cloak was all that rounded out the ulfrbarn's possessions. He did not mind.

It was better to travel light with the Great Pack, adding little weight to the back of the thurblakulfr he rode upon with pale blue hands clenching in dark, thick fur.

**[…was borne away to the north…]**

**[… to the Utanheim…]**

No words broke the silence – no tongue of the Jotunn breached the afternoon air in this desolate place. There was only the occasional yip-yap of the four young pups now nursing with their mothers, the everlasting breeze which whipped off the large lake briskly, the lap-lap of the slowly increasing waves alongside the far beach and the plop of his bait as the bit of eel sunk below black waters.

Only a few minutes passed before the young boy felt a familiar tug on his line. With a practised flick of his wrist, the twin jerked and the rod flipped upward – a silver-backed flatnfiskr flopped wildly, caught on the vicious hook Hluti had bent and sharpened out of jarnvithr. A wicked barbed thing which did its job nicely.

The ulfrbarn caught his eighth fish when the rest of the wolf pack returned from their respective hunts, bearing two long-legged snardaera and several snaerharra triumphantly. Others joined them from their hunts, each bringing some hard earned sustenance for their families. Such is the way of things in the Utanheim.

Storr-Mothir – that was the impression of her name which he had lifted from her bright mind – large with child, sat close to the ulfrbarn. Her intelligent, golden eyes watched as his fingers turned the fish this way and that, while his other hand moved up and down rhythmically, removing the scales with the small pocket-knife which he had strapped to his thigh.

Unlike Hluti's short-knife, this small, wicked thing could fit the palm of his hand easily. Flick, flick, flick, flt-flick. Silver scales flew right and left – and then the sharp blade slipped along the edges of the fish's body and inwards, breaking through white bone and pale-red flesh.

Guts were tossed aside and scooped up and wolfed down by Starf and Thiofir (so named by Kol'la for their mischief and thievery). Storr-Mothir hovered over the uflrbarn protectively, her commanding eyes flashing warnings at any of the other wolves who skulked about and watched the scrawny creature lay out its catch on the white snow.

The other fish were likewise treated – scales and innards removed, the flesh cut neatly into strips and a few were frozen by the ulfrbarn's magic, wrapped in one square of cloth before being stowed away in a separate pocket in the sack which hung from the bottom. An ungainly way of managing his things, but it would do.

Looking innocent, the ulfrbarn snuck a fish to Storr-Mothir who sniffed it carefully before devouring it with one bite. He ate two fish himself. Looking up to the dull, grey sky, the ulfrbarn sniffed the air tentatively and eyed the increasingly high waves which now rolled up to the steep embankment upon which he had stationed himself. Spray rose in the air and white caps were forming further out. The ulfrbarn glanced at the slowly approaching Storr-Fathir who bore the hindquarters of a snardaera in his great mouth.

A storm was coming.

When the Storr-Fathir tossed down the meat before his mate, the ulfrbarn backed away, allowing the two to nuzzle each other and share the evening meal in peace. No sooner had he turned about when two pups, barking madly with high-pitched yelps, dashed over the snow toward him. They leapt up into the air in a vain attempt to bowl him over and worry at his nose and ears as was their habit in the more recent days. One of them was attempting to climb into his arms and the other one had fastened small fangs onto the ulfrbarn's ankles. The ulfrbarn growled back and shook the two pups off.

"Aiya!" The ulfrbarn cried, finally sinking to his knees to tussle with the two little ones carefully. "Did you not eat your fill this evening?" He shook his head. "Ah-ah! What monsters you must be, ha! And with bellies the size of the Eybjarga itself!" The ulfrbarn rocked a little as a bit heavier weight suddenly appeared on his back. "Oho! Feitr has decided to join us. Perhaps a bit of exercise to lose weight. Ahhh!" He twisted about then to smack the fat pup's head, for it had sunk its teeth into his ear. "Not the ears again!"

**[… silence breaks…]**

When the storm hit, the pack had hunkered down ready for it toward the west side of the lake among the clumps of trees which offered some protection against the blizzard. In pairs or groups, the thurblakulfr huddled – and partially carved out of the deep snow which already lay on the never-seen soil and rock of the Utanheim, the ulfrbarn huddled by the warmth of the Pack-Mother and Father. He had placed his pack in the hollow and he sat within it as well, Storr-Mothir slightly overhead, her fur hanging in and he pressed up against her as the wind and snow blew about. Storr-Fathir returned and settled by her head, curved about protectively against the main blast of the wind. And so, uneasily, they fell asleep.

**[… silence breaks…]**

**[… on Jotunheim…]**

There is white again. A broad expanse of white. Unmarked. Untouched. Once again. The snaervethr passed by and left a quiet world and the suns rose over a new flat desert of snow, freshly hardened by ice. And then – a sharp crack and barking cries and howls broke the air. Dark figures struggled upward – once formless humps broke free and snuffled the free air. Virgin snow now harrowed up as the thurblakulfr pack awoke. Shaking their fur and darting about to ensure everyone was rising, vibrant howls filled the cold, crisp air.

The first thing he heard, as if from far away, was the sound of a wolf's call. Fear stiffened his limbs – and then relaxed as he remembered. They were his family. His family now. The Great Thurblakulfr Pack of the Utanheim. And he felt so warm. _So warm._ He grumbled at the noise and turned his head away as a pale light beat on his eyelids.

Then heat. Unwelcome, yet welcome as it descended on his face – soft and wet, running from his chin up to his forehead. Grunting he turned and scrabbled muzzily in the comforting snow. More tongues now. Smaller ones joined the larger one. A few were running up along the sides of his ribs. The still-sleepy uflrbarn snorted a little as he rolled over onto his stomach – and his hand nestled up against a wriggling bundle of fur which was now tickling his ear with a quivering warm-wet nose. _Ugh. _

A large tongue then ran down his ribs and his groggy snort transformed into something foreign working up out of his throat. _Opna. Thyrstr._ They had made the sounds often. Sometimes they were nice – other times, there had been a biting edge. Hluti and Elska. _Elska._ The ulfrbarn did not remember the name for it – it eluded him, but still it remained with him as the tickling increased along his sensitive ribs.

**[… there is laughter…]**

"Aiyaaaa…" The ulfrbarn choked out between snorting and his high-pitched… whatever it was. "Sto-stop-stop. I am up now. I promise. See. I'm getting up."

He did indeed try to rise and only got as far as his knees before one of the pups decided it was time to attempt to climb the ulfrbarn's back again.

"Feitr!"

With that sharp reprimand, Feitr darted off whining sadly and the ulfrbarn finally managed to find breath and rise. That morning, he ate a piece of frozen fish and a light tea made of the bitter blakkgras slightly sweetened by the rare ovarmorn flower. After breaking his fast, a small group of the younger wolves gained permission from Storr-Father to take him northward to the far edges of the Eybjarga. Sending him off, the Storr-Father's muzzle nudged the most recent addition to the Great Pack.

_**... be safe, little one...**_

_I will_, the ulfrbarn promised and buried his head for a moment in the long fur of Storr-Father's neck before turning and then climbing up onto the high back of the young thurblakulfr – with the helpful nudging of Storr-Mothir who had appeared to have adopted the strange, short blue creature. Then they were off.

It was a glorious place – the place of a Thousand Falling Waters, the Eybjarg Rivers and Hratath. Standing on the sharp, black rocks, the ulfrbarn spread his arms and faced the Void once again, this time on the Outer Rim of the Utanheim.

Cold and slick beneath his feet, the rock chilled his bones – but nothing was as awesome as the sight before. Inspiring, terrifying and profound. _The sight of beyond a billion suns_, he knew, _burning through the Void_. And he could hear them: voices calling to voices, spirits to spirits and before his eyes another world of colour opened as a scroll. It was the power of the Realms, the strength of the Heimsrsal chiming in unison. Birthing, growing, fading, and dying in an endless cycle of magic and life. He could feel it. In his very bones, bursting outward. The ulfrbarn tried to keep it in –

He closed his eyes and listened to the roar of the water as it fell endlessly over into the great blackness. _This is the magic of Jotunheim, of the Nine Realms, of the cosmos itself – that it can give and give and yet never be taken. _

As he stood there at the edge of the world, he remembered Elska suddenly. _Elska and Hluti. What had they said?_

**_You will make Haffa and Smarmurtr and I very proud – wherever we are. _**

_**We may never meet again, ulfrbarn – but perhaps, one day, we will meet again... in the company of the For-Eldra.** _

Something came to him – unbidden then, the memory of a melody which Elska had hummed to him before he fell asleep each night. A wordless tune he had sung for Smarmurtr, Elska had admitted. A melody of love – and slowly, yet certainly words formed for each note within his mind and on his lips.

Haltingly at first and then gaining in confidence –

Laugh into the blackness  
And sing,  
For this is the day we pass onward  
And join our hands.  
Close your eyes, little one,  
And rest.  
We are always here, little one,  
Sleep.

It had a name as well, and he would teach it, he thought, to any who would listen. _The Lullaby of Elska._ The ulfrbarn gave it to the Void, thin and wild yet beautiful, for it was his.

It was his.

**[… there is laughter…]**

**[… there is singing…]**

**[… on Jotunheim…]**

* * *

**There you go! The wolf-ulfrbarn chapter. After this... plot starts to move along-ISH. Some set up before we go downhill again. HAHAHAHA!**

**DID YOU THINK THE LOKI WHUMPAGE WAS OVER FRIENDS!**

**IT IS NEVAH OVAH! (gets on podium and starts stirring up fandom)**

**Ahem. Yes. Ignore that crazy writer person over there. 2 more names for Loki before Loki is named Loki! Ha!**

Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakcol – coal pieces  
blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)  
Eybjarg Hratath – Thousand Falling Waters, the Rivers to the Void

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
Flatnfiskr – flat fish  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

ovarmorn – pale yellow flower, very sweet

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
snaervethr - snowstorm  
Snardaera – snow-elk or deer  
Storr-Fathir – Great-Father/Pack-Father  
Storrholl – Great Hall  
Storr-Mothir - Great-Mother/Pack-Mother

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing

ventrmellin – winter melon

villrkyr – wild ox

Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	17. Distant Rumble

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**So... MANY MANY MANY THANKS TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEW! TO ALL THOSE WHO READ AND FAV AND ALERT! I appreciate you guys!**

**To wbss21 (thanks so much! again!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (explanations below!), neko (thank you! I hope it continues to be nice!), alchino (yay! bonding! yes~!), DragonsFlame117 (wowsers! fluff cavities! *hands over toothpaste*). LOLZ. You guys are awesome.**

**Also, in response to a question - ulfrbarn means 'wolf child'! Sorry! It has been added to the list!**

**And... as for the upcoming chapters - prepare for lift off! Kyehehehe. Although, this chapter may seem really dull since it's more of a bridging chapter. Eh.  
**

**Also got over a minor hump re a fighting scene involving Thor and Loki. . Fighting scenes can be difficult and I have a feeling I'm gonna tweak it to death... v.v But anyways! Fun fun fun times ahead!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 17  
Distant Rumble

**[... in the distant reaches of Utanheim, a child's cry...]**

**[... you can hear it on the wind...]**

**[... if you listen...]**

The long cycles of Jotunn years passed onward, ticking slowly as does the Asgardian clock, while mortal-kind on Midgard slowly grew to awareness of the heavens. As they raised their eyes and built monuments to the stars, another watched the changes of the cosmos – and learned. It was not a commonsense kind of wisdom, or a matter of learning book knowledge, nor was it a world weary learning of the world's doings, but rather an ancient understanding of the true manner of things – what Hluti's mind had broken against and what the Heimsrsal teaches to all, should all be willing to listen.

Young eyes grew wiser with each passing season but growth was slow, as the short limbs lengthened, leanly muscled and fragile compared to its peers, yet strong in their own way. Feet became clumsy as the growing runt learned anew how to coordinate his movements. Fingers lengthened and tapered, long black hair flew back in the wind barely combed and his face, never fat to begin with it, gained a slight aristocratic air as cheekbones finally began to set, preparing for the next stage of his life. And when he passed a small cavalcade of Dark Elves traders travelling to Snjarhamr from their favoured arrival point in the Offaerdalr, heads turned at the sight of the small, blue-skinned Jotunn with a full head of black hair and beautifully vicious, red eyes and the air of a wild thing. An untamed thing. The spirit of Jotunheim personified.

"Feral, that thing is," those of Snjarhamr mumbled among themselves, when farmers from the north dales came south to trade and share gossip. "Someone failed their duty. Poor thing."  
"Mindless like a beast, it is."  
"Stay away from it," they told their more curious younglings. "It will spirit you off, eat your flesh and gnaw your bones."

Such are the roles of the ancient Elders – spreading common knowledge in those communities which had tales originating from the Dawn of Time itself. The story of the ulfrbarn became one such tale.

-0-0-0-

If the ulfrbarn heard what the others said, he made no mention of it. At times, he approached various farmers and miners in the north with saplings, small woven, blakkgras baskets of fish or furs. Some ignored him. Others, desperate Jotunn who cared not who brought sustenance on the desolate sides of the Offaerfjall, accepted and paid in cloth, leather pieces, small blades, potions or what small things they had about their equally bare homes. Hunting the ulfrbarn was ill-advised – no Jotun wanted the herd of thurblakulfr to come knocking.

And thus, for three hundred years, there was an uneasy truce between the villages and the wild things of the north. And that cursed creature which the Jotunn did not speak of.

-0-0-0-

A hundred and eighty-two years after the disappearance of Utgard's Curse, Laufey, who had since then visited Utgard once to oversee Helblindi's progress (with a proud and very pleased heart), now directed his realm from the central seat of Gastropnir – and it was there that he first heard news of a Jotunn dvegr who rode with the giant black wolves of the Utanheim.

Boisterous laughter filled the court as Hylli told his tale – something he had heard from his mate who had heard it from the local tunglblom seller who had heard it from some lack-witted trader from Vatnboer. Everyone knows that any Jotunn living beyond Thrymheim is a ice-rock of superstitious belief – more solid than a glaciar and just as thick and slow-moving. Laufey cracked a smile at the idea of a Jotunn dvegr racing with a pack of thurblakulfr.

"Although, one can see why," Bitra, another fun-loving Jotunn chortled, "it's size and all – 'twould barely be a mouthful for those beasts."

More laughter.

"That is not all, however," Hylli was struggling now to keep a straight face. His red eyes widened with theatrical seriousness. "For there is more to the tale. Not only is the parentage of the cursed thing a mystery – but green fire erupts from its hands and it can change the hue of its skin – for it..." Pause. "... carries the gift of – of MAGIC!"

Even more laughter ensued – the sound of it rumbling through the hall and out the narrowed winds – low and powerful as thunder claps before the lightning strike. Cups or fists were slammed repeatedly on the table, backs were slapped, heads thrown back and someone was begging Hylli to sit down before he slew them all with his increasingly improbable tale.

"Gossip out of the Offaerdalr has gotten worse by the minute," Jafnathr shook his head. "Those fools will believe anything up there."  
"That is what happens when you look too long at the snow's brilliance," another said.  
"Well," Bitr had to point out, "what else do they have to look at?"

Another round of merriment – but this time, Laufey did not smile.

Had Helblindi been there, he would have recognized the small line which formed between his royal father's two brows. A sign of thoughtfulness. But when Laufey wrote Farbauti, who was visiting Helblindi during that season, his missive bore no mention of the rumours which were growing of a Jotunn youngling dvegr who roamed the hills of Snjarhamr and the Wastes beyond.

The dangers of Jotunheim were growing.

-0-0-0-

**[... yes, the danger...]**

**[... it grows...]**

Beyond the obsidian cliffs of Offaerfjall Mountains, so called because of their almost impassable nature, beyond the skeletal mining crews pressed against the rocky edges and the farms below who harvest the delicate heithrsker blossoms which grow only in the desolate climate of the north-eastern mountains – beyond all, lies the Offaer Skogr – a dark, dense woods whose roots are covered with the treasures of heithrsker and luthrblom. Untouched thanks to the fast hold which the thurblakulfr and jarnkottr have on the region. Within these woods, the ulfrbarn had clumsily erected four slats of jarnvithr across the branches of a wide hota-eik and three walls, thus far had been raised in protection against the wind. It was poorly made - but it was home.

This particular white oak was stunted, and its branches drifted close enough to the ground for the small runtling to grab onto in order to climb up into the relative safety of the tree's boughs. Within the three walls, sat a drift of snow and a few wooden chests, small and square, which held his few precious things in good order.

**[... a home in the face of...]**

Two hundred and thirty-four years after his forceful ejection from Utgard, the ulfrbarn returned to the tree he called home and, clambering up the entrance branch as he called it, he made his way to his flet. His house in a tree was nothing as nice and neat as Hluti's cabin... but the ulfrbarn did not dare stay too long close to Utgard. At any sign of him, those inhabitants would be more than willing to attempt to chase him down.

And Helblindi was there. _I never want to see him again_, Ulfrbarn told himself. _I never want to see him again. It hurt... too much..._ and for a moment, he sat there on his partially open flet, back pressed up against the wall by his snow-bed, head in his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, as he tried to force the memory of his brother down. _Down_, he imagined the image of his tall, perfect brother being shrunk and folded and put inside a chest where all the other bad things in his life went – _Elska's didn't respond to his first call – Mage Opna's hand on his small chest – Thyrstr's fist rising – nonononono_ – He curled up tighter and fought back his memories, beating them down until even the memory of the horror on his brother's face began to fade – _such horror_. He had not looked at himself again since that day, if he could help it. There were no mirrors in the Utanheim excepting the occasional sheet of ice or obsidian cliff. The ulfrbarn did not look. Did not need to remind himself of how much he continued to fail as a Jotunn – and since that day, he had tied a new leather band about his hornless brow which he rarely removed.

At any rate, now was not the time to cry useless tears over snow long melted. There was something greater at stake now, for the snows and winds and ice of the Utanheim winter had swept down through the Offaerfjall Mountains to Snjarhamr beyond - and above them all, the peaks were now laden with a dangerous burden. Winter was coming and with it, the dangers of ice and snow.

A whining, yipping sound rose from below. Crawling to where he was working on raising the final wall for his small tree abode, the ulfrbarn poked his head out and over to peer down at his friends and pack-family below. Groenn. Feitr. Hraustr. Beini. Reka. Skathi - his friends. His pack-brothers - Fenris and the twins, Digor and Dolge. His pack-sister - Vaenn. They were not yet adult, yet no longer children. Like the ulfrbarn, they roamed freely, happy to return home - but only after getting into and out of trouble. Their bright eyes glinted up expectantly and the ulfrbarn rolled his eyes as Groenn, the youngest and most impatient, leaped up and began to scratch against the bark.

"Hey now! I will be down, Groenn," he rolled his eyes, instantly feeling better at the sight of the young thurblakulfr. "Be patient. You know what Storr-Fathir always says – snow does not fall faster with the watching!"

With that, the ulfrbarn scampered forward and pulled his small pack over to his icebox, where he stored newly caught fish and then stowed away the remainder of the previous catch in his small leather pouch which he slipped into his pack along with two hair thongs, Hluti's dagger and a few potions as well as the fabled heillgrjot – the multi-coloured crystal rocks which grew encrusted on the slopes of the Thokafjall mountain range in the north-west.

A while back, the youngling had stumbled upon the outermost field and, from a distance, watched with fascination as a small pack of Jotunn carefully gathered as many as they could before swiftly returning the way they had come through the Nethriland along the Bathmra River down to Grjotvatn and Hluti's cabin. When the Jotunn had disappeared into the gloom, the tiny hands of the ulfrbarn picked up small fragments of the rock and turned them over. As the luminous stone shone in his small palm, he remembered the books Elska had read aloud and which he had also poured over. Distant memory of a happier time – a time when he could read and write – _and – best not think of it. You know what these are anyways_, the ulfrbarn told himself. _Healing and concentration stones. Rare. And you can use them..._

On this particular evening, he packed the heillgrjot also wrapped in another pouch, this time of wild-ox hide awkwardly stitched up. Surveying his small home, the ulfrbarn hefted his pack onto his back and slithered down the tree. Groenn was sprawled out on the ground, lolling about and paying no particular attention to his surroundings while the other more mature pack-mates had taken positions around the small clearing to peer out into the dense forest watchfully.

"Did Storr-fathir give the word?" asked the ulfrbarn. Groenn whined and it was Fenris, the eldest, who yipped an answer to which he nodded. He gave his blessing and we are to proceed as planned, but have care for a storm is coming. "Of course. You can tell from the wind." He sniffed the air and frowned, pulling his badly stitched slowly widening fur cloak about him. "It will be cold on the other side tonight. We must make haste if we wish to reach them in time."

Climbing on Fenris's back, the ulfrbarn settled in for the now familiar ride through the steep Offaerfjall mountains. It began with gentle slopes which rose into small paths cut into the sides of the cliffs and there were moments where stones clattered ominously from above as the great grey-black clouds of a magnificent thunder-snowstorm formed. A day and a half trek, travelling light, the small pack were both tired and famished when they finally looked down at the dwindling dale which stretched out from the mountains and then disappeared into the flat lands which surrounded Snjarhamr far in the distance.

"I tried to write..." the ulfrbarn sighed looking down at the farmsteads and the gaping hole which marked the entrance to the cramped, smelly mines which he had traversed once invisibly. "But they would not listen... they never listen."

Groenn yipped and the more serious Digor barked sharply in response.

"No, Groenn," sighed the ulfrbarn, shaking his head as he slipped down to stand beside Fenris, eyeing the peaks which soared above them. They looked even more ominous than usual tonight. The ulfrbarn shivered as the wind howled past bearing with it something dark and dire. "Digor is right. I should have known better. They never wish to speak with me – and of course they would misunderstand the entire matter. Come, let us go to the far peak over on that end – we must finish the last side tonight if we are to make it in time. The storm is upon us. If she is right, we will have much work before the sun rises tomorrow."

And as if to prove him right, the ground beneath them shook in warning.

* * *

**So there you go - the ulfrbarn is a Jotunn on a mission. For what? We shallll seeee~!**

**I began this fic saying there would be 50 chapters, but now it's looking more like 56. We'll see... But I have a feeling this thing could go up until 60 chappies. But on the other hand, the chapters are short. Sooo... Yeah.**

**Update on Friday!**

Glossary:

ulfrbarn – wolf's child  
blakkgras – black grass  
thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
dvegr – dwarf  
tunglblom – moon blossom  
heithrsker – crystal flower  
luthrblom – trumpet flower  
jarnkottr – iron cat  
jarnvithr - ironwood  
hota-eik – white oak  
heillgrjot – healing stones


	18. Against all Odds

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm woozy with happiness. As it were. :D To: DragonsFlame117 (yes, everything is planned!), wbss21 (love your perception), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (SOON), Double-Gemini (revel in these -sorta- happy days), alchino (BAMF!Loki up ahead! I think...)  
**

**Don't be afeerd to chat! I appreciate concrit and Loki/Tom Hiddleston-related ranting! Yep! And for those who reviewed Chapter 16 so nicely - there's this shout out! Thanks a ton! http COLON SLASH SLASH kakashidiot DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 52549187447 SLASH in-the-end-there-was-no-problem**

**ALSO... at this point in time, Thor is about 16/17 years old Earth equivalent and Loki is about 14/15. Still YOUNG!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 18  
Against all Odds

_**... you should not have come...**_

Niflheim is a mysterious Realm and one of the lowest, hanging as it does by the roots of Yggdrasil itself. Long ago, before Time was measured by any being, tales tell of how this ancient Realm spawned life out of primordial darkness combined with the fires of Muspelheim and the magic of Asgard. So they say – and so it remains – an empty, dead place – cold and remote.

But even more mysterious and cold and remote and dreaded is the haunted realm of Helheim. Stretching over most of it lies the ever increasing Kingdom of the Dead itself. Ruled by Hela, Goddess of the Underworld, each of her feet planted within the realms of the Living and the Dead, she reigns even now, a dichotomous being and a paradox besides.

**[... if you believe such things...]**

**[... the Afterlife...]**

**[... but Jotunheim stands apart, they say, even in death...]**

Cold, flat, grey and icy, Helheim lay silent – until the sky burst aflame with golden light and a scorching beam cast down the youthful Crown Prince Thor, The Warriors Three and Sif. For a few moments, Helheim drew breath as the magic of Asgard's weight fell on its land. There was a crackling, a shuddering of ice, and far away deep within her halls, Hela woke.

Exhale.

**[... Death woke? No...]**

**[... the right hand of Death rules Valhalla...]**

**[... and on her left stands Hela...]**

**[... She has many lovers, but Death has no home...]**

"We should not have come," Hogun muttered to the group at large as they stood back to back roughly in a circle, gripping their various weapons a good day later. His breath puffed out on a small cloud, warm air hitting the ever-frostiness of Helheim, the Realm of Mists.  
"You always say that," Thor laughed, hefting Mjolnir more securely as he eyed the horde of undead who now surrounded them. "And yet, here we are – again!"  
"I keep hoping that perhaps next time would be different," the stoic warrior replied, swinging his small battle mace experimentally.  
"I thought you had more sense than that," Fandrall quipped with a light chuckle. "As useless as getting Volstagg here to change his diet!"  
"Hey! I resent that!" Volstagg huffed. "Speaking of which, anyone have any of that smoked venison? I'm feeling rather... peckish."

Sif rolled her eyes at the unsuccessful attempt at battle humour. _This situation_, she sighed, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder, _is well out of hand. Again. Hogun's question is a valid one – and I don't see how we are to get out of this one unless All-Father were to aid us. Thor may have outdone himself this time._ The dark-eyed warrior girl swung her sword and raised her buckler again.

"An army of the dead, Thor. Really?"  
"An army that does not die," Thor laughed then, blue eyes sparkling with the fervour of battle. His laughter rang free and wild, a golden thing in a world of monochrome, jarring and alien – but to his friends, comforting. "How can one resist?"  
"Let me consider that a moment," Fandral replied. Paused. "My answer is... fairly easily a 'no'."  
"How long have we been fighting already?" huffed Volstagg uneasily. "I would say two days already – but time here seems rather slippery."  
"An even better question is how much longer must we fight?" Hogun added, turning slightly to glare at Thor's broad back.

_**... forever...**_

The dark-haired warrior glanced about uneasily and shifted from foot to foot. He could almost here it – the soul-leeching soul of the place. Haunting, lonely and dire.

"We. Should. Not. Be. Here. Thor," he repeated with a bit more force now. "We must go! Can you not hear it? Feel it?"  
"But I have just begun –"  
"Thor –"

The mass of rotting skeletal guards who had herded about them surged forward, cutting off Sif's remonstrance as they blindly grasped at her – hands and breath cold and damp. They wielded crusted swords, somehow still sharp, dragged from the barrows of the dead. Ancient and oft-times magical things, cursed for protection and coveted by dragons. These were the armies of Hela who protected her borders with a vengeance – and, of course, Thor saw them as a chance to prove his mettle.

Instead of attending an important court function with the All-Father, Thor had decided to ride out with his friends in search of a new adventure like never before. He was young – and it would be many years before he came of age, but Thor was not to be gainsaid. Of course, his friends banded round. There had been a small matter of enlisting a magician's apprentice in order to deceive Heimdall – and then they were on their way. As the Gatekeeper activated the Bifrost (happily unaware that Odin's signature had been falsified), Thor had promised his friends a grand chance to hone their skill with an enemy like no other.

_Hone our skills, yes_, Sif thought as she brought down her sword, cleaving a guard in two through the skull – and then watching with annoyance as it gathered itself up and staggered forward yet again, it's gaping, decaying maw hanging wide open in a gruesome imitation of a smile. _Enemy like no other?_ She cocked her head and considered the situation. _He wasn't lying there either. However, I would like to survive, so I may enjoy my new-found –_ here, she kicked two guards off and hacked at another in the back _– skills, and tell the tale myself in Odin's Hall._

Mjolnir, she noticed was whirring around their perimeter, smashing heads and decimating legs, before returning to its owner's hand. Whirling it round and round, Thor called a storm and brought lightning splintering down with laughter ringing out.

And still the Horde came.

Hogun had long since abandoned his bow, mace and throwing axes and was now using a short broadsword to keep the guards at bay, while Fandral's swift sword neatly hacked at the legs of the undead in a vain attempt to cripple their movements. Volstagg, growling and grunting like a savage boar, rammed through twirling his current weapon of choice – a long-hafted blade.

And still the Horde came.

_**... you are mine...**_

Hogun flinched – and he was about to say, _we should go_, when a golden light engulfed them and the fighting youths were pulled from the Land of Mist and the Kingdom of the Dead.

_**... but not today...**_

When the stream of the Bifrost cleared and the group of truants looked up, expecting to see the stern face of Heimdall, everyone froze at the sight of the Imperial Guard. Everyone froze and fell silent at the sight of the two august personages of the sovereigns of Asgard themselves – a furious Odin and a very worried-looking Frigga. Everyone froze – except Thor. Bounding forward with no less enthusiasm than he had displayed on Helheim, the usual excitement he showed (_like that of an untamed colt_, Volstagg thought, _or a young pup_), Thor grinned at his parents with pride.

"Father! Mother! This is a surprise! Did you see what I did, Father? I took on fifty –"  
"THHHHOOOORRR!"

Odin's roar echoed out from the Observatory, down the Rainbow Bridge and all the way to Asgard's inner gates.

Ah. Yes.

Another day in Asgard.

-0-0-0-

**[... the spirits of Utanheim are restless...]**

**[... they stir the heavens...]**

The ulfrbarn's warnings earlier that week had fallen on deaf ears – but when several ominous cracks of lightning hurled themselves at the mountain tops, many of the Jotunn looked at each other in apprehension and began to prepare in earnest for the worst. Some even began to leave their homes, trudging away from the small town toward the nearest city of Vatnboer. When a distant cracking and creaking sound echoed across the valley, the Jotunn farmers grabbed their younglings and their always ready packs which were prepared specifically for emergencies such as these – and fled. They discovered that the miners were already beating a hasty retreat down the wide valley – as well as several Dark Elves and Dwarves who had made the mistake of arriving in their favoured dales two sun cycles earlier.

A short time later, when the cracking and creaking sound grew, crashing and smashing through the jarnvithr trees which sparsely decorated the mountains, the Jotunn realized with dread that perhaps – perhaps – perhaps the vaetki had been right and perhaps it was too late. Small younglings wailed and wolves howled and all manner of living creature, they could see, were already up ahead, scampering over the wastes westwards toward the Jathar Skogr. Older Jotunn children were hefted up by their parents and thrown clumsily over their backs. Behind, the avalanche grew in power, thundering down the sides of the Offaerfjall Mountains.

FWOOM. The avalanche, now as wide as the village, hit the ground – and a large cloud of powdery white snow rose into the air, blotting out the lower northern sky as though a large wave was to engulf them all. Several of the younger Jotunn who were watching over their parents' shoulders shouted with horror as the mine shaft entrance was buried and the further upland, sturdy jarnvithr and stone homes were swamped by the swells of white. Loose stones from poorer constructed dwellings flew in every direction and the ground shook as the ice began to crack and ripple under the combined pressure – the ice sheets below their feet cracked – swelled – and then as they shifted – froze.

The avalanche now spent itself on the hills and dales, creating huge mounds of snow across the wide landscape – and beneath their feet, the shuddering ice slowly stilled. Far in the distance, further rumblings spoke of smaller snow-floods, but as if in response, the ice underneath their feet only grew thicker in resistance. It was then that the Elder Skyne drew back uncertainly at a surprising sight before them. The sight of an unwelcome, yet familiar figure hunched over, small hands flat on the ground. Green wisps emanated from its fingers aiding its natural abilities, spreading the ice further and further. The miners and farmers and traders came to a complete stop, uncertainly - behind them, the avalanches shuddered to a close and the ice settled. When all fell silent, the feral ulfrbarn of legends rose.

"It is the lagreinn," hissed one farmer. "He..." A pause. "Saved us?"  
"Impossible," grunted a miner. "Why would a living curse –"  
"Hush now," the Elder waved a hand. "We should have listened to its warning earlier," he added with a sigh, counting the Jotunn who had not fallen behind. "And now we have paid for it. Ahhh..." He sat down with a groan and nursed his left foot which had, at some point, gotten cut by sharp ice. "What has Jotunheim come to?"

There was a small rustle and then the Elder's large hand, stemming the cut as he tried to roughly bind it with a leather thong, was lightly touched by slender fingers, which opened to reveal the gentle sparkle of luminous stones of bright yellow and fainter blues. The smaller palm turned over, holding the stones against the cut and green wisps poured forward again, stitching the skin effortlessly together.

"Lagreinn – you –" The Elder gasped and the other Jotunn whispered amongst each other (So it does have magic! Yes, yes. That is what I said.). Watery, aged eyes gazed at the dark head now rising at the name.  
"It is not lagreinn."

Everyone froze at the quiet whisper of the cursed one.

"It is ulfrbarn."

And in a flash of green, the wolf's child was gone, no doubt to rejoin his kindred far away in the green forest of Jathar Skogr.

It was Ulfrbarn from that day onward in the tales of the Snjarhamr Elders – and when the Jotunn returned warily to their homes, and looked upward, they could see the traces of thick walls of ice, clinging to rock and tree, which had born the brunt and redirected the force of the blast away from their village by ten spans. Walls of ice and carefully carved paths of rock cleaved by a grand working, they realized.

It was Ulfrbarn from that day onward. Ulfrbarn who gained respect and thanks besides fear - and the Elders' tales multiplied until the final day when the ulfrbarn showed indisputable strength and worth for the sake of Jotunheim, when the enemies of the Jotunn came and took its undiscovered treasure.

When the unnamed ones came.

**[... the Void brings nothing but sorrow...]**

**[... they are coming...]**

* * *

**I AM SORRY WORLD FOR THE SHORTNESS!**

**There you go. Loki rocking it big time in Jotunheim. And as you can see, avalanches! Yes! I researched avalanches for 2 hours. TWO HOURS! Even watched a documentary until I had dreams of a White Christmas. Sigh. Discovered a ton of things - like the fact that there are 3 main types of avalanches and how to deter them and turn them aside and how they hit and impact the ground when they get to the bottom of a slope and et cetera. I hope it seemed realistic to you. :D**

**Uh... coming up next - the start of a new ARC! YEP! Be prepared! For... ANGST! Next update around Tuesday. XD**

**Let me know what you think!**

**Author's Note on Chapter 16: Writing fluff is rather difficult in a fic like this - because I don't want it to BE FLUFF. I want it to be weighty but light and hopefully that's a feeling you came away with. I had this image of an art-documentary really (like Oceans or Journey to the Edge of the Universe or Planet Earth) - bizarrely enough. This feeling of silence (like Black Stallion meets Eight Below meets Princess Mononoke) - a feeling of... nature and being on the edge of things. And then, in this wide wide world, the camera focuses - closer and closer - on a small black dot. It's the ulfrbarn cleaning his fish with the Pack-Mother at his side. Yeah.**

**And of course, yes, magic is important. Loki hasn't stopped learning about it. You could say that here is where he will apply theory and do things on his own. There is a bit of "Colour of Magic" by Pratchett here, I think, in the sense that he is starting to see the warp and weft of the world and discovering how the cosmos is bound together, and it is empowering him.**

Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Ulfrbarn - Wolf Child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	19. Nightfall

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**WOW! New people! New reviewers! New faces! I'm so glad you are enjoying this - I'm not alone anymore! YAY! Be sure to say hi! Don't be shy and drop a line! **

**Thanks to those who reviewed! As always, you guys are awesome. To: tinyBrocks (thanks for the love!), jai parker (I hope the extensive use of Norse is OK...), dairygirl (sorry for the angst - but don't worry! Loki will rock!), DragonsFlame117 (hold onto the happiness!), Double-Gemini (I hope my author's note will be of use to you), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (I'm joining you in your evil laugh as well), wbss21 (I hope that the answer to your speculation in this chapter will not disappoint) and Raven's Dusk (Welcome back... and I hope Heimsrsal doesn't kill me because of this chapter!).**

**LET THE GAMES... BEGIN~! Don't kill me! (runs away)  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 19  
Nightfall

**[… the skies are empty on Jotunheim…]**

**[… a harsh, grating hum fills the air…]**

**[… they have come…]**

"Five. No more, no less. Final offer," the grimy miner grunted, shifting forward five dull discs of plated tin across the ice and sat back on his haunches, his gaze fixed on the smaller face contemplating the coinage silently. It was a fair bargain – and although the ulfrbarn could have tried for six or seven, the tiny Jotunn nodded, snatched the five pieces swiftly as if expecting them to disappear and edged back, allowing the miner to take the two snow fox pelts he had brought to market.  
"Many thanks, lagreinn."  
"Ulfrbarn," the wild child tossed a blunt ice dagger at the older Jotunn's head in correction before turning back to peer at the coins. Carefully, the slender hands stowed away his hard-earned profit in the badly sewn pouch which was bound tightly to the ulfrbarn's bony chest.  
"Hmph," the miner said, thinking that the cursed dvegr was too prideful by half – but held his tongue lest something other than ice be tossed in his direction. Any sign of hostility drove the youngling wild.

_Youngling, no longer surely_, he sighed to himself. S_ome time has passed since first mention of its name in these parts… it is no longer a child, even if it shows no real signs of aging…_

The two parted without further words. A regular day in Snjarhamr.

That was how it began.

-0-0-0-

The first sign was a distant hum. Elder Esaf raised his head and frowned – a distant memory of fear flashed before his eyes and he glanced at fellow Elder Skyne, who rose, strode to the council hall door and looked up into the dull late afternoon sky. Several of the villagers were also outside looking upwards curiously – and with some apprehension.

Traders often came to this part of Jotunheim – by astral travel, through Asgard's Bifrost or by the secret branches of Yggdrasil. Others landed in mechanical carriages which travelled the black spaces between stars, something which most Jotunn considered repulsive and unnatural. And, of course, these newcomers to Jotunheim had the habit of landing in these parts of Jotunheim – not in the too-distant Utanheim, but far enough away from the stern eye of Laufey-King and his protectionist policies. Here, on the borders of Utanheim, anything could happen.

Then, the hum grew and the mountain snows filled with light as through the dense clouds overhead, the landing gear of some massive vessel pierced through the grey and large round lights gleamed brilliantly – blindingly. A wind whipped up and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of a thousand metal gears and venting and hissing and whooshing.

When the ulfrbarn opened his eyes, all he saw were the gigantic black-grey, meteor-pocked sides of a metallic wall that dwarfed even the council house. One wall slowly opened and it lowered downwards to meet the ground – and far away, a metal bell of warning from the miners rang out. Even then, he did not know enough to fear.

Not until Elder Skyne began to race forward into the village square bellowing like a wild boar, "GET THE YOUNGLINGS TO THE MINES! RUN!"

At that moment, the entire village sprang to life as trader-hunters grabbed their spears and formed ice daggers, as the jarnkottr sprang from their leashes and as the various house-mates grabbed the younglings up and began to sprint for the Offaerdalr's limited protection. The door had fallen opened and out thundered some creatures which the ulfrbarn had never seen before.

They were tall – tall as Jotunn – but wide and square with rounded edges where Jotunn were lean and rectangular. Yellow-white skin spoke of a long time spent in a land with no light, the ulfrbarn could guess – _that or perhaps because they travelled the spaces between worlds…_ Hands the size of a large window, definitely the size of his tree home's wall, held long metallic things –_ weapons_, he guessed, and gaping mouths revealed blunt, yellowed teeth. A gargling sound filled the air.

_Laughter?_ _No time to think on it_, the ulfrbarn told himself and grabbing his pack, began to weave his way down the wide main street. It was not an easy task to avoid being stepped on – for chaos had erupted, with the Jotunn village scurrying about. Even the few dwarves and dark elves visiting had taken to arms and were busily engaging the enemy.

It was when one of the intruders grabbed a young, almost-adult Jotunn, stabbed it with the metallic object and put it to sleep that the ulfrbarn realized what they were.

_Slave traders_. He began to run in earnest.

And then paused.

-0-0-0-

They have no name, the tales say.

**[... nameless horrors...]**

They had no name. No known official name among the worlds they terrorized. They were known to others only as The Slavers, but amongst themselves, they called their peoples the Mahko'nai. It was a sacred number and the current count of moons they held within their stable empire. The Skrull, the Kree, the Phalanx and the variety of other races and species within the galaxy and the universe beyond shifted in an ever changing cycle whilst the Mahko'nai stood firm. They were a giant, stocky, strong race – the rhinoceroses of the galaxy and just as stolid.

Stability, however, depends on the little things – and each part of society had to be upheld by various trades, one of them, dealing with slaves. Across the galaxy, the Mahko'nai people roamed for treasures of great price – and passing by the Realm of Jotunheim, the captain of the _Nu'Yulsa'ahlei_ had decided to increase his payload by ten Jotunn, since those creatures were rare and difficult to get otherwise and he was already in the quadrant for a rack of Terrans.

The first shuttle landed and the company of ten rushed out knowing that in this dark world, their landing lights had destroyed any element of surprise. However, luck seemed to be on their side, for the Jotunn appeared to be in an uproar and, judging by the size of the town, this was a smaller outpost and less protected than usual. Adjusting their suits, hefting their highly energized shiv-staves, the company split up in pairs, lumbering after the young adult Jotunn. Aged Jotunn were of no use to them and younglings were prone to die without their parents, but Jotunn between five centuries and a thousand years were worth the trouble. So, watching the information streaming past the high-def, IF data-goggles secured around their eyes, the Mahko'nai kept an eye out for the appropriately sized three meter tall Jotunn.

"Ten of 'em," grunted Green Leader. "In this crowd?"  
"Got one in my sights, Cap'n," said Green Five (the usual overachiever). "Cover me, Green Six."  
"Gotya," was the quick response, and the two darted sideways with Green Five taking the lead, spearing the young Jotunn in the side, breaking its tough skin easily with the diamond tip of the shiv-stave before juicing him. As the young Jotunn collapsed into sleep, Green Five hefted his burden easily over his shoulder and made his way back to carrier. Just as he threw down his burden on the ramp, something pricked him in the foot, right through his tough boot.

He looked down and blinked in surprise. A small Jotunn. Scratch that. A baby Jotunn, attempting to spear him through his foot.

"Uh, boss," Green Five lifted his boot, casually kicking the little Jotunn aside so that he could pulls his catch further up the ramp. Then he turned and peered down into the large snow drift to get a closer look at what looked to be a clear racial anamoly. "I've got some Jotunn kid runnin' around here. I mean, the size of a baby or just a bit larger – I thought you said they didn' walk –"  
"Can your chatter, Green Five –"  
"Boss! I'm not jokin' here – it's puny… it's like somethin' I never seen afore."  
"Catch it," suggested Green Eight.  
"Now, what would we do with a runty Jotunn?" asked Green Leader, exasperated as he fended off two Dark Elves and a Jotunn.  
"Well… It's a pretty thing – could pass for an Aesir or somethin' like that – an exotic pet?"  
"In a cage?" Green Ten quipped. "Seriously? Well… we've seen stranger."  
"I'm getting' some strange readings off it," Green Six put in. Pause. "I can't believe it..." He gasped. "Switch to Sub-atomic Field – you seein' what I'm seein'?"  
"By the Emperor…"  
"What in the…"  
"I thought you said Jotunn runts were mentally deficient - and weak -"  
"Yeah, that's what the books say -"  
"Didn't Jotunheim lose all its, um, magical users during the War?"  
"Laufey-King has magic, right?"  
"What are you talking about?" Green Leader roared over the intercom.  
"Switch to the Sub-atomic Field, boss. You'll see what I mean."

Green Leader turned and looked back to the carrier where he saw that Green Five and Six were watching a small Jotunn stagger to its feet – except this time, in a world of monochrome, the puny being was lit with green fire.

"We've got a live one!" He hollered. "Catch it!"

With that, everything happened very quickly. Green Five reached for the dwarf Jotunn – but it slipped past his three fingered gloves easily and began to throw ice daggers at his legs and back as the small body skidded past him between his legs. The daggers splintered and broke against the All-Terrain suit – and Green Five laughed – for only a minute.

No sooner did realization that the suit would need something a bit stronger to penetrate, the young Jotunn had stooped down, put its blue hands flat on the ground and chanting something short, the ground began to build with ice – Green Five leaned forward – arm stretched out and then froze as a huge shaft of ice hit him from the side, stabbing through his armpit and up into his neck, chin and skull.

"Green Five terminated," the intercom intoned.

A chorus of invocations of the Emperor and his Spawn splattered over the comm.

"Grab that thing and neutralize it NOW, Green Six!" snapped Green Leader. "Green Two and I are on our way. Everyone else, stay calm, Gold Team is coming in –"  
"Green Three terminated."  
"By the Emperor," snapped Green Leader. "What now?"  
"What are you doing over there, Green Four? You're supposed to be watching your partner's back!" yelled Green Seven. "Eight, cover me!"

With that that, the Green Company split up, while overhead, the landing lights of the Gold Company blinded everyone for a few seconds. Beyond the shuttle, Green Leader could see the dark shapes of the Jotunn mother-mates, as he called them, escaping to the hills with their small babes wailing in their arms. He shook his head. _Those will be for another day_, he grinned crookedly to himself. _Another time, children, we will return. _

And beyond the second shuttle now landing, a swelling tide of miners now streaming out, bearing picks and axes and shovels and spears. He sighed. _Just our luck._

"Mop it up, boys," he bawled into the intercom. "We've got company!"

Gold Company landed. The high-powered landing gear beams powered down and night descended once again temporarily. Green Six took the chance to snatch the small Jotunn around the waist. However, no sooner had his left hand pinned the Jotunn, while his right hand searched his side satchel for some magic-restraints then the runty creature turned into a literal ball of fire. Flames erupted up his arms – and as Green Six yelled and dropped the magic-using Jotunn, the youngling took the opportunity to fling himself forward, clinging to his chest guard – and reaching up, heated the entire metallic piece – and setting fire to his face.

It was hell – if you believed in that sort of thing and all Green Six could thing was to scream and bellow. Somewhere far away someone was yelling at him to roll in the snow – and he fell – but already the jetpack on his back had begun to smoke and spark.

There was an explosion.

There was light.

* * *

**So this chapter is gonna feel... alien toward the end - or strange or bizarre or like a piece of a puzzle that doesn't quite fit. Let me know if it's too jarring for you... but I want to have the idea of something completely foreign breaking through here. If that makes sense.**

**Since this chapter is shorter, I will update around... Hmmm... Thursday my time~.**

**XD**

**See you around! Don't be a stranger and send me a note!**

**-KI**

**Author's Note:**

Double-Gemini asked a few great questions – and I was unsure if I had written of the matter within my author's notes, so I will address them here.

First, what is your take on Norse Mythology? I will answer this question as it pertains to my story. My story is an AU of an AU!reboot (MCU-verse) of an AU!reboot (Marvel Comic Verse) of a mythology. (read: the link to the original mythology is tenuous at best, sorry) I hope that answers the huge question. See below for more details. XD

Secondly, are the Avengers going to appear in your story? Yes. I believe I stated as much when I said that this story was set in MCU-verse and I also mention it in the section labeled "comments" towards the top.

**For those who want a more detailed explanation:**

First off, I need to say that I like Loki in his many forms of canon – but I hold to the fact that the canon of Loki is very much splintered at this point and any self-respecting fanfic author would recognize this after browsing the Net for a while. So almost any Marvel version of Loki, as it were, should NOT be presented as canon nor should any author assume that their version is the "right version" because it is based on Marvel Comics or the Norse Mythology. I have seen some of my favourite authors apologizing for not reading the comics... I was like, "Um, your fic is in the Avengers Assemble category – why should you be referencing the comics?" Like Loki himself, there is a marvellous amount of room for multiplicity and we should celebrate it – **but also tag our fics appropriately**.

That is to say, in my mind there are 2 major subdivisions related to this discussion here: Norse Mythology!Loki and Marvel!Loki. **There is a difference between the two.** That is the first important point to realize. And then, the second important point to come to grips with – **is that within Marvel!Loki there are further VERSIONS of Loki all separate and distinct.** My Loki is ONLY BASED ON the MCU-VERSE, TOM HIDDLESTON LOKI. You might think, um, what does THAT mean? That means I am extrapolating entirely from the scenes involving Loki and what the verse looks like from the movies.

There are actually a variety of sources to pull from: Norse, Marvel Earth-616 and other versions plus the movie-version (Earth-1999999), but as a fanfic writer I am more fond of sticking to the MCU-vere (Earth-1999999). **As an author and critical reader, I have personally come to the conclusion that MCU-verse Loki has had no children, is rather quite young mentally and sincerely did NOT know of his Jotunn heritage before the vault scene.** I have my reasons. That's just me. Don't get me started.

Marvel Comic Loki (and Norse too), depending on which version you look at, knows his heritage from the get go – but few comics show him with kids. I enjoy reading dad!Loki – to a certain extent, but have come a little disenchanted by the gratuitous use of his children to invoke sympathy or fluff. Just does not cut it for me. Once again, don't get me started. Still, I will read dad!Loki fics... but if you are reading this in hopes of seeing Hela or Fenrir or whatever as his kid and having some nice heat-warming parental chit-chat... ain't gonna happen. Yep.

On the other hand... BECAUSE this is strictly an MCU-verse fic, I have an imperative to bring in Thor and the Avengers... and so, they will be brought in. Also, I love writing them too much.

I hope this clears up any confusion. If you have read my Christmas Magic fic, then you know that I have a great interest in writing detailed Avenger dialogues – but the Distortions in Time Avengers will have a different slant.

- KI

p.s. Also, in Christmas Magic, the scene in which Loki helps with a homebirth is used as a way for him to understand why Odin did what he did – because in my mind, Loki can't understand Odin's need to save a child on a battlefield – because he's never had a child of his own or brought life/helped bring life into the world before.

* * *

Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	20. Starfall

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**I am so pumped today. I did my first formal lecture - on poetry... and it went OK! I didn't kill my students with boredom. Time went by fast... too fast. And maybe I did a good enough job they'll ask me again. Heee~!**

**AN AMAZING PIECE OF FANART! BY... (drumroll) TheEverhearted! SO AMAZING AND CUTE AND SAD! http COLON SLASH SLASH i DOT imgur DOT com SLASH SLzwCkZ DOT png**

**OR... or... you can go to my profile and get the easy link there. XD**

**Thanks again to people hanging in there! I was afraid that this turn of events (which I had planned way back) would turn people off. Anyways, thanks again for reviewing!**

**To: Double-Gemini (Take note of the author's note below. Thanks for asking a great question again - I should really just put up a running note on his age), Raven's Dusk (we'll see how it goes...), DragonsFlame117 (I'm so glad you're glad!), wbss21 (heeheeheeheeheehee).**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 20  
Starfall

Two down. Several more to go, the ulfrbarn pulled away and began to run forward, just as the miners burst into the open square of the villages. He would have been trampled if he had not already had the experience of running with the pack. _The Pack..._ Just thinking about the creatures he called family, the ulfrbarn wondered if they were playing it smart and keeping their distance. _I hope they stay away_, he thought as he watched two more of the tall, grunty giants approach. _This form of battle would bring them more harm than they could bring help… especially thanks to those lightning and sleeping staves…_

The ulfrbarn contemplated the three sleeping Jotunn now stowed halfway up the sliding bridge which led up into the spaceship. _These look small for long-distance travel_, he thought, _which means there must be a bigger ship somewhere above…_

The two slavers were on him now. _One is fatter and runs slower… maybe…_ Already the ulfrbarn's mind was teeming with possibilities. Face set in determination, he darted forward, just barely missing the spark of lightning which seemed to spark from the end of the device as it was aimed at his torso. Running forward, his pursuer easily keeping up with him, the ulfrbarn swivelled at the last moment and disappeared between the legs of the second pursuer who had come up on his right, attempting to herd him into the wall.

It was a dangerous gambit, for he could have easily been stepped on – but it worked beautifully – the two monsters crashed into each other, the spear of the taller cutting through the leg covering of the shorter. Pale tough skin ripped open with a small wound – and as they untangled their limbs, the ulfrbarn's hands were already filled with a set of miniscule throwing daggers. They were new – bought only three weeks before. Dipped in poison, they had become his favoured way for bringing down the grarulfr who ventured north – accurate and deadly. This time was no different. Within moments four daggers had sunk into the soft flesh, the poison had set in and the shorter, fatter one keeled over, stone dead.

No time for triumph however.

This time, the ulfrbarn was grabbed again, from behind and slammed painfully into the ground. There was a cracking sound – ice and bone painfully jamming together and something in his shoulder snapped. Crying out, he rolled, attempting to twist out of the firm hold on his feet. His fingers and hands filled with flame, but this time he was merely lifted and slammed again – this time into a drift, dowsing him swiftly. He fought, clawed, bit and squirmed.

Overhead, the wind whipped up, snow began to fall in gusts and ice began to creep with slow deadliness over every moving thing in city. The miners, looking about, grabbed the few surviving traders and began to edge away while the Gold Company found themselves being forced back to their shuttle. Their actions became more defensive as the radars beeped warningly - more Jotunn were streaming up from the south. Apparently another town had been alerted.

Yet, in the centre of the square, a battle was still being waged. Wind, snow and ice were forming large spikes and rills and drifts of snow dunes as the apparent leader of the slavers fought with the Jotunn dvegr. If there had been any doubt as to its powers, there was no doubt left now. It was a ball of fury and green magic and ice and fire – and it was not to be taken without a fight. Several Jotunn darted forward – but were held back as the others pointed out that the rest of the company had drawn back to the shuttle and were even now gathering around the youngling.

It was a lost cause.

The Jotunn watched as the small body was pinned by heavily booted feet and a wide, black, metal collar was fitted about its small neck, containing the magic. Almost instantly, the wind died down, the snow lightened and the ice stopped spreading outwards –

And silence fell.

**[… silence fell on Jotunheim…]**

There was another sharp cracking sound as one of the boots sank heavier onto one of the ulfrbarn's ankles – and a quiet whimper emerged before the Jotunn dvegr, the ulfrbarn, succumbed to its injuries and was hauled away with the three others. Nothing was said as the two shuttles rose while the ramps slowly closed and the last sight Elder Skyne saw of the ulfrbarn was a limp hand falling away from a too slender chest.

_Was its magic gone? Perhaps... but only for now_, he sighed sadly, but then smiled grimly. _Not for long. The ulfrbarn carries the spirit of Jotunheim – and the spirit of Jotunheim always endures. As it always has been since the dawn of time._

-0-0-0-

"It is the duty of a King to be a father to his people." That is one of the basic tenets of Jotunn kingship – one of the first things Laufey's father had taught him when Laufey was but a young Prince and more than ready to take the throne. As a father, it was the duty of the King to protect and to fight for the people he called family – the entire Realm of Jotunheim. And so, in time of need, the King, if he could not be there when the time was right, would at the very least succour and aid in the healing of his subjects.

As soon as news reached Thrymheim, Laufey left with Helblindi for the north, sending word to Farbauti and Byleistr in Gastropnir to join them in Snjarhamr. Utgard's progress reports would be dealt with at another time. At the moment, there was much work to be done. When the King and Crown Prince arrived but two and a half sun cycles later, much winded but ready to take on the challenge of raising the city, they discovered that the Jotunn were still struggling to deal with the devastation. In the confusion of the fight, several homes had been damaged and the major causeway running through the small city had become impassable thanks to a strange build up of snow and ice which would not weaken easily.

"What happened?" Helblindi said, voice muted as he looked about. "Utgard is a grim place, but this is –"  
"Slavers," sighed an elderly Jotunn, emerging from behind a stone wall he had been building up. "Came out of the sky so suddenly – without warning and the city was caught up in chaos – two companies landed…"  
"No…" Helblindi glanced about. "How many were taken?"  
"Three or four Jotunn, we believe," the old Jotunn said, then, catching sight of Laufey approaching. "Your Highness... it is an honour..." He bowed.

Laufey nodded and, coming up behind his eldest son, jerked his head to the left, "Come, we are summoned to the city council and there will receive an accounting from the village elders. If you are not too fatigued, that is."  
"I will manage," Helblindi said tightly, following his father into the long hall filled with a simple table and a round of humble stools now holding ten Jotunn.  
"Glad to hear it."

Everyone sat – Laufey-King in a seat of honour at the head of the long table with Helblindi on his right. The village elders shuffled about and then one particularly aged Jotun rose to his feet and nodded.

"Our tallies have been complete and we have spoken with all from Snjarhamr and up into the Offaerfjall," he announced in a creaky voice. "and from our census of last winter, we hold to our initial guess that only four were taken."  
"Only four?" Helblindi mumbled at his father out of the corner of his mouth. "That is a paltry number. Have they become so weak?"  
"If it was not for the aid of the Dark Elves and the company of Dwarves who had come for trade," the elder continued, "the battle would have lasted longer and would have taken more lives – but as it is…"

Laufey nodded, understood the unspoken plea, and said, "We will be sure to reward and compensate any visitor to our Realm who aided us in our time of need. Helblindi."

The Crown Prince was already taking note of the matter.

"So, only four were taken. This is a time for great rejoicing – that even a small outpost as this was able to defend itself at a moment's notice… but there must also be given a time for mourning, if it has not already started, for those who were taken and we pray may be returned."  
"Yes, your Highness. Our Elder Skoll is managing those affairs."  
"Elder Skoll, if you please, then."  
"We have begun the period of mourning," Elder Skoll rose to his feet. His arms had been bandages and there was an as yet unhealed cut across his face, but he spoke with certainty and strength. "Two of the Jotun missing belonged to no kin and as such, a small service by the Mage of Snjarhamr will suffice. As for the other two…" With that, the Elder continued on, discussing the details of the ceremonies for those with family who were taken.  
"And there is the, er, small matter of the ulfrbarn," Elder Skyne spoke up when Skoll had sat down and leaned back, report complete.

There was a round of dry, uneasy laughter and then an awkward silence.

"He was, after all, instrumental in the death of no less than three of the Slavers," Elder Skyne continued, voice even and firm.  
"The… whom?" asked Laufey, raising an eyebrow.  
"The wolf's child – a lagreinn."  
"I am sorry…" Laufey cocked his head in disbelief. "A lagreinn? Fought the Slavers?"  
"Yes... and killed three with his own hands – one by ice, one by fire and the third by a poisonous dagger."  
"Fire and ice," the King leaned forward. "You sound as though you speak of magic."

An awkward pause ensued.

"We do not know to whom it belonged – nor from whence it came – but that it came from the plains of Utanheim some full-sun cycles ago… more than two centuries, for certain – and it bore with it the gifts of Heimsrsal herself."  
"And it lived in Snjarhamr?" asked Helblindi, uneasily, remembering suddenly blue-black blood spread over white snow outside Utgard.  
"Nay, it ran with the Great Utanheim Pack of thurblakulfr."

Laufey massaged the bridge of his nose, glad that Farbauti was not here – otherwise his mate would be beside himself at the loss of a chance to revive the kingdom's Rituals, runt or no. _He has gotten sentimental in his old age... ever since..._ Laufey froze at the distant memory of the touch of a fluttering thing in his belly. Shut his eyes and whispered to himself, "No."

"Father." It was Helblindi, for the first time looking worried. "I must speak with you –"  
"It is a matter of jest in Thrymheim and Gastropnir that those of the Offaerdalr are riddled with superstition," Laufey ignored his son to give everyone at the table a displeased stare. "Still, I thought that in a time of crisis such as this a certain amount of level-headedness could be maintained."  
"We are not lying, your Highness," Elder Skyne replied courteously. "Nor are we witless. Here... Urtr and Tekli, bring the ice block."

Two elders at the back rose and then after a moment, shuffled in with a block of ice – thick and square and the size of Laufey's chair seat. It was covered in runic engravings set in the ice – all of which spiralled from a pair of hands smaller in width than his dinner plate. Laufey's breath caught and then exhaled suddenly as though his heart had been hit by a blow.

"And its parents have not come forth –"  
"Father-King," Helblindi was saying.  
"We will discuss this in detail later," Laufey-King rose then and made to leave, before pausing at the door and turning back to stare at the others. "There will be no ceremony for it. For IT."  
"My Lord –"

But Laufey was already gone.

-0-0-0-

Helblindi wisely said nothing until Farbauti and Byleistr had arrived. Only then, he sought out his father and drawing their family together in the spacious quarters provided them by the Elder Urtr, he stood before his parents, feet apart, shoulders back, braced for what he knew would follow. A storm the likes of which he had never seen.

_Or perhaps not..._

"It is about the ulfrbarn," he said.  
"Ulfrbarn?" asked Farbauti. "Those stories are circulating around still?"  
"It is no story, Mother Mine," Helblindi said. "Father saw it as well – the hands were small – and set in the ice and the runes running outward were those of magical might. The accounts are too many to be a falsehood. It fought for our people – and it fought bravely."  
"It should have died. It should have been... put down," Laufey bit out. "A grave mistake on the part of the parents."  
"Your mistake, perhaps," Helbindi said, steadily, voice tight, his red eyes searching his parents' open faces and watched as the lines about Farbauti's old eyes deepened and how Laufey's grip on the arms of his chair tightened. "The both of you." He stared down at his feet. "And mine as well."  
"What are you speaking of, Helblindi?" Farbauti finally managed to speak into the following quiet, only broken by the crackle of the small fire and the sound of some metal creaking in the distance. "Speak quickly and plainly."  
"When I first went to Utgard those many years ago, it was because of the untimely death of Mage Opna. That and another matter also – a lagreinn which had been raised within the walls of the Gothahus itself."  
"Within the –" Farbauti's red eyes widened and Laufey looked thunderous.  
"I did as you just wished for the ulfrbarn – I gave it death on the northern plains of Utgard, at the hand of a pack of thurblakulfr." A beat. He would not show grief, nor the self-contempt which had settled in his gut since that day - a burden he had willingly taken to bear. "I gave my own. Brother. Death."

Farbauti made a sound and sat up straight, his hand suddenly painfully clamped about Laufey's arm, while Laufey glanced up at his son, and seeing the seriousness and pained expression on his child's face, blinked in astonishment.

"You speak of a brother."  
"There was one, was there not?" asked Helblindi unrelentingly.  
"Your only brother is –"  
"There was another, was there not?" Helblindi repeated with icy clearness, forcing down an increasing need to vomit.  
"There was an unfortunate... thing..." Laufey finally admitted with distaste. "We got rid of it before the final battle at Utgard."  
"And you saw it killed?" Helblindi asked carefully, setting aside the issue of when it happened.  
"I was – we all were more concerned with the battle field – and Farbauti, you were... I believe I sent you with the boys to Dagaheim."  
"You did – I was not there either... he could have – he could have –"  
"It didn't."  
"He did," Helblindi sighed then, shoulders drooping. "My hands traced the lines on his brow myself. A spindly, mistreated thing and better off dead – but the Eybjarg seemed too dangerous to me – and cruel to deprive him of a hope of being with our For-Eldra. I fed him to the wolves..." A pause. "At least, there was blood – but no body left – and if – if – the wolves spared him –"  
"Thurblakulfr spare no Jotunn, much less a mouthful of a runt, for they do not suffer us lightly," Laufey said dismissively. "Think no more of it, Helblindi. You did well."  
"Thurblakulfr spare no Jotunn," Farbauti whispered, "but... Laufey-mine, he was – he was gifted beyond all measure and hungry for power and if Heimsrsal were to be with him, then..."  
"Heimsrsal was with him," Helblindi said. "We saw witness in the ice as well."  
"IT. Is. Dead. Farbauti," Laufey said. "It is dead – whether it died at the hands of the Mages, or at the hands of the wolves or at the hands of some unknown master in the stars above our heads – it remains, as always, dead to us. We speak no more of it."

With that, Laufey jerked to his feet and left the room - but not before Helblindi glimpsed something unfamiliar and unfathomable cross his father's face. Farbauti was weeping now, silently and Byleistr, quiet as ever, crept into his mother's arms and comforted him. He thought of the cold stars that shone down on them and his stomach clenched at the thought of a young brother beyond the voids of space, helpless and alone. Stories of Slavers and images of the monsters who would torment Little Brother until his long life was spent played in his mind.

_Little brother_, he thought, _may you embrace the arms of Heimsrsal and end your misery. May you join the For-Eldra so one day I may meet you_, he prayed. And deep down – _dear little brother, be safe._

Oh, how he prayed.

And Farbauti wept. Bitterly.

**[… fell…]**

* * *

**Laufey is totes in denial - and just not wanting to accept... or maybe still waters run deep. But poor Farbauti! Poor guy. And of course, Helblindi is all torn up and Byleistr is like, "Wut?" **

**Next week - Loki and the Slavers. ANGST AHEAD!**

**Author's Note on another few GOOD QUESTIONS:**

From lotr195 -

What languages are you using? For Jotunheim and Asgard (and basically the Nine Realms), I'm using Norse stuff. For anything else (ie. aliens from the rest of the Marvel universe), I'm using made up languages that sounds like it could fit with the names that are given on Marvel Wiki. I hope this makes sense! . Since I've also studied Old and Middle English, Latin, French, Chinese and Japanese, there might be syllables or stuff that sounds kinda... yeah... *trails off*

Can Loki have babies? Yes, like all other Jotun, Loki is totes biologically capable - if he can find DNA that will mesh well or another short Jotunn. Heh. But technically, like his people, Loki is hermaphroditic. This fic will not deal with that - but there is a general idea for a sequel which would deal with this kind of stuff. XD

From Double-Gemini:

What is Loki's age at this point of time? Loki is around 13 years old. Poor baby.

* * *

**Glossary:**

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	21. Tied To The Stars

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks a lot to those who reviewed! You were really encouraging to me and that really helps me a lot when I work on smoothing this piece of work out. Taming the beast, as it were, can be overwhelming, so knowing there are people out there enjoying it really encourages me to keep hacking on through what I've got planned!**

**To: DragonsFlame117 (good news: this is the arc in which Thor appears, bad news: he doesn't come for a while yet), wbss21 (there are some rays of light at some point), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (good luck with your projects!), Ica Leigh (welcome!).**

**So, now I have a week of exam-giving... 2 days, really. And then I am FREEEEEEEEEEE~~~**

**Sort of.**

**Warning! Warning! Slavery! Forced feeding... and Abuse. Warning! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 21  
Tied to the Stars

**[... there are no skies here and no wind...]**

**[... only mechanized humming to hide the silence...]**

So cramped. It was worse than the jarnvithr cupboard he had inhabited those long years when he had been so weak and ignorant as to believe he needed the aid of his betters to survive. When he had listened to those poisonous words and had taken them to heart. When he had considered himself Nothing, less than nothing. _Never again_, he had vowed to himself. _Never again_, he renewed that promise. _This, this too I will overcome and if it means I meet my death, then Elska will greet me that much sooner. _

The metal container they had slotted him into brought the old memories to the surface, as though his mind was the stew Elder Esaf loved to slowly simmer over the hot stones of his hearth. Hidden things rising to the surface as the ladle turned round and round and round... Thyrstr's iron hand wrapped around his thin wrists as his other rose to batter the young vaetki – _ulfrbarn_, he told himself, _you belong with the Pack now_. Reminded himself as the memory of Mage Opna swam to the surface – the band of heaviness which had weighed the young shoulders as his arm circled about the younger Jotun's shoulders or waist. _No_, panic rose then, _no. It is not to happen again. No no no nonononono._

He thrashed and protested with a string of curses he had learned the hard way from the traders of Snjarhamr. The ulfrbarn twisted in the bonds which pinioned his arms tightly before him and bit at the broad hands which reached down to still his sharp movements. There was a stifled curse in response and he could hear some foreign language uttered over his head, but he could not make the words out. The new captive was less than pleased to learn that he would have to crane his head far back to catch the faces of the Slavers, which was impossible thanks to his confinement. All he could see was the lip of his metal cocoon and tall giant legs which rose out of his view.

_I am in the flooring_, he thought rather incoherently as he growled up at them. Shadows wavered and fell as others moved about, the conversation was coming to a close and without warning, the broad hand reappeared to yank him upwards and for a moment, the ulfrbarn was lifted halfway out of his new prison. A glimpse of a broad room with a grating over the floor – and underneath the grating, he saw a field of slots such as his: some filled, some empty. It brought to mind a picture in a book of a natural home made by small creatures in Asgard. Elska had it called a 'honeycomb' – and the Aesir were fond of the sweet substance secreted therein. Or so the Jotunn had said, lips curling with disgust. 'Sweet' that was something he could only guess at, but there was nothing 'sweet' about these honeycombs. An uncomfortable stench rose in the air and the sensitive youngling reared back – or rather, tried to. Callused hands held him firmly and another hand forced his jaw and mouth open.

Something metallic was worked in by a second set of hands – a round bit which his teeth clashed uncomfortable against. Red eyes widening, the ulfrbarn tossed his head and tried to pull away. _No. What –_ Metal bands wrapped about his head and clipped on the back, keeping his tongue still and his mouth slightly parted. When a small tube appeared in the hand of the second set of hands, which he saw were attached to a smaller, slighter humanoid, the ulfrbarn's hands rose up – but the Slaver's now free hand easily stopped the ulfrbarn from harming the second being._ Is it a Slaver too? What is it? Why is it doing this to us when it clearly –_ All thoughts were suspended as the tube slid past his suppressed tongue and gently poked against the back of his throat. The ulfrbarn began to gag a little, but increased pressure, a gentle command which the Slaver responded to by angling the ulfrbarn a little better – and the tube continued to slide downward.

He whimpered, even when the tube stopped. A pause. The ulfrbarn was slotted back in his containment square, wrists this time attached the wall. Rubbing his face and slightly open mouth against the back of his hands, the ulfrbarn attempted to drag the tubing out. No chance. It was secured to the side of his cheek by a rough strip of some sticky substance and drifted upward and then attached to another tube which dangled from the edge of his small prison.

Then the ulfrbarn was left there, grating lowering down over his head and the his small world was shadowed with lines and crosses and filled with nothing but the hum of a mechanical engine and the noise of others walking over him with no thought or care concerning his misery.

**[... so time passed...]**

**[... in this world where night and day are meaningless...]**

**[... yet time passes...]**

There was no routine to mark the days, to note the relentless march of time. Realization came slowly, as other prisoners, slaves, whatever they were, came and went. He stayed there, until bit by bit the fire within him died and flickered weakly. The reality of his helplessness sunk once again into his very bones – as old memories and nightmares revisited him. His whimpers and choked cries went unheard. Forced alive by the liquid which ran down the tube, down his throat to his unwilling stomach, the prisoner had no choice but to continue on his hated existence. His skin, thanks to his long-time imprisonment, was now an unhealthy shade of pale blue, untouched as it had been by Jotunheim's cool suns and fed with only the barest of nutrients. No longer did the stench of the slave ship bother him as his own stench surrounded him without relief.

One day, a broad hand opened the grating and stroked the long hair which hung in greasy tangles down his back. No violent response this time – merely the raising of dulled eyes revealing a fatigue of the soul. When the large fingers of the Slaver lingered on the thin cheek, the small creature leaned into the touch, starved for a reminder: it was alive.

It was alive.

The Slaver's large wide mouth gaped open and black stone-like teeth showed. It mumbled something incomprehensible and nudged the collar around the slave's neck.

"Du-juh-ah-lay-ko," said the Slaver slowly, his forefinger and thumb lingering over the prisoner's sharp cheekbone. Something formed in the smaller creature's mind – a prompting. _Your name, little one..._ Then, it repeated the syllables quicker now, tapping the slave on the forehead gently to avoid bruising. "D'jah-lay-ko."

After a moment, the slave nodded tiredly.

The ulfrbarn was no longer.

He was dZh-Aleiko. Number 495 of the dZh-Run.

-0-0-0-

"Hey – hey – Alei! Alei! You hear?"  
"Hear what?" groaned the pale, green-eyed boy, raising his head from the grimy square of sacking he called a pillow to eye one of his Shaft Pack mates.  
"The Slavers are coming – and Master jZ-Mahyulsa says there are some contract exchanges!"

Alei groaned and fell back on his pillow, rubbing his dark-ringed eyes slowly as he considered the matter. This was never new. Slavers came and went on their own schedules bearing the news of labour division throughout its large empire of misbegotten and misused assets. Dzh-Aleiko, the formerly blue-skinned worker in the Jog'aln Mines, was just one among millions who were shuffled about from job to job. Mayultho, his Shaft Pack mate, was the optimistic type. Born into this life from a Shaft Pack elf-woman, Mayultho never knew the joys of the free-born. _He merely dreams about leaving the rock, exploring beyond the horizon. Even as a slave. But... can you blame him?_ Aleiko grumbled to himself as his Pack mate blabbed on about 'cushy jobs waiting on rich people riding galaxy cruisers' and such like.

"Who knows?" Mayultho said. "Maybe you'll end up going somewhere else, Alei!"  
"I would prefer to go home," Aleiko said mulishly, turning over to light a small red fire in his palm. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? You are home."

Awkward silence.

**[... the silences of the blackened moon are empty...]**

**[... the spirits left this place a long time ago...]**

**[... such desolation...]**

Looking up at the starlight of the universe, what do you see? And beyond, what lies? A large and wondrous place? A labyrinth of dangers? Nebulae and clouds of star dust mar the vision. Ancient light speaks of youthful days of worlds long past – and in between, nothing but grit and silence and unrelenting cold. This is space.

In a corner of the Nine Realms, on the edge of the nothingness which lies between galaxies, hangs a massive star system, of which Tarnax III is of middling size and of moderate population. Its third moon, an insignificant, gray thing which hangs motionless in the night sky, hovers pock-marked over the pale green planet. Presenting a flat, serene face to Tarnax III, the third moon belies the furious activity taking place on its other side – the massive mining enterprise of the Jog'aln Corporation, a Skrull outfit which enjoyed the close patronage of the Skrull Emperor himself.

Forever cast in the shadow, the far side of Tarnax III Third was a twilight world, a dim, dark place with only a minimal amount of air. Atmosphere generators provided enough for the enslaved miners to work in, the threat of extinction keeping the masses in line. Shuffling through stuffy, closed in passageways hewn carefully into the rock, the "employees" of the Jog'aln Corporation hauled rock and precious ores and metals to the surface for processing and then eventual export.

Aleiko of the dZh-Run, sold to the Shaft Pack One Hundred and Eighty-Three, learned how to work silently and efficiently. Jotunn hardihood and a slight build allowed Aleiko to carry his allotted burdens easily enough – as well as move swiftly. His red eyes, used to the dim world of Jotunheim, served him well here – but the darkness of his skin did not. Easily missed in the shadows, the young Jotun was forever dodging flying carts and other larger workers who bumped and crashed into him as they lumbered down the narrow shafts.

That was until Master jZ-Mahyulsa had the collar adjusted, allowing a little magic to seep out, giving the slave an added dimension of worth in thanks for his careful service. Aleiko's skin shifted to a pale colour which glimmered in the dark a little better. Now Aleiko's jobs extended beyond the servile running of errands, carrying rocks, chipping at trenches and pushing the bins. With the gift of his partially returned magic came great responsibility to heat or to cool appropriate objects – metal, food, fires and stone. Small injuries were healed by his scrawny hands and each day ended with deep-seated exhaustion settling further into his bones as his magic drew on resources he could barely sustain.

With the news of the Slavers, the entire mining colony was on edge, making life even more difficult for the masses of slaves who waited for the unknown. The Masters were easily irritated and everyone scurried at the sound of their raised voices.

"Aleiko!" A snarl followed by a crackle of the guards dreaded Electro-staves. "Where is the boy? Ha – there you are. Skulking about, I daresay. Where have you bin then?"

Aleiko knew better than to reply. Instead, he shuffled his feet and held out the small datacard which he had just returned with.

"Great-Master Nai'naifreima complaining again?" Master jZ-Mahyulsa snatched the datacard up. "The void-brain lump. Mind as empty as an asteroid that one – what he want now? Some of the kol-sava'atha? Or chi'iano? Probably doesn't even know what he wants, huh, that o'ma'auzha." He grumbled as the new datacard slotted into the machine which hung from his thick, rough-edged belt which hung, half-hidden, underneath his great, sagging belly. "Ha. Hm. As I thought. Word from on high... about those cursed Slavers, as usual, those o'ma'auzha, just popping in and popping out. Well, at least they're bringing some brawn with'em this time."

A pause as he scrolled through the data. Unlike other planets, the electrical surges brought on by solar flares often shorted the communication cables, leaving hand-carried datacard messages as the only reliable source of information on the small moon. Aleiko would be sent back with the Master's answer if the situation required. He waited patiently while Master jZ-Mahyulsa quickly typed up a short answer, acknowledging the message. The Master eyed the silent slave who stood by his side.

"Well, then, seems like it's your lucky day, Aleiko," he grunted. "You will pack your things and present yourself with this message at Great-Master Nai'naifreima's Outer Office with the others. The Slavers have picked your number. Times up here." These last words ended with an ominous laugh. "You may regret it – not that I know where you'll end up."

With that, the datacard was handed back to the slave, so called Number 495, and ever busy Master jZ-Mahyulsa promptly forgot the quiet creature known as dZh-Aleiko. The moon of Tarnax III moved on.

-0-0-0-

Far from the heart of the Nine Realms, from the cold wastes of Jotunheim and the golden halls of Asgard, deep within the heart of a star nebula, there lies a stellar crossroads of some sort – a busy, glittering, metallic planet which pulses with sound and smell and grime. It is the Meeting Place, the Market and the primary planet of the Shamarxes System. The original inhabitants long extinct, it is the home of no one and everyone – where creatures from far and wide meet to share coin and stories. Tawdry, gaudy – these are the first things one thinks of at the mention of Sharda'aa, the Planet of Pleasures, Den of Vice and Counterfeit Gold.

Here, the long-legged girls kick their heels toward the stars and whisper sweet nothings in the ears of those willing. The long-legged girls and boys and everything in-between. Underneath their songs, their musicals and wondrous magical shows, there pulses the ever yawning pit of need – and greed. Feathers, metal bits, sequins, bone-carved trinkets, plastic under-suits and sensuous graces entice, sway, drag you under… And the unwary succumb to the clouds of perfume and drugs – submerge – and forget their dreams and hopes until even the memory of starlight is faint beneath the smoggy atmosphere. The foolish end as beggars, losing their money to cards, to dice, to the gambling halls and fighting pits which beckon at every street corner. Until one day they wake to their own demise. This is Sharda'aa, the Planet-City of Illusions.

And it was here that dZh-Aleiko was deposited next by the Slavers. Shoved through the dented, scratched, metallic back door of the self-styled "Poison Paradise".

DZh-Aleiko, ever a quick study, already knew the basic language of the quadrant and blinked at the paradoxical name. He was not entirely certain what to think or feel. _Worry? Horror? Amusement?_ Aleiko kept his face blank nonetheless. _It is not my place_, he thought bitterly,_ to offer my opinion. But that will change – one day_, he ended with the usual promise to himself. Already, his bright green eyes wandered about the back room as the Slavers lined up the row of five young men and extolled each of their virtues.

As he suspected, Aleiko's abilities were much valued – his hard-earned ability to read, write and wield magic, which he had honed within the mines. Pulled out of the ranks, Aleiko was shoved toward a lithe Lizard-Woman. _A Skrull_, he corrected himself. _They call themselves Skrull._

"Well, then, little magical one," the green-skinned woman smiled down at him, shifting her stance on precarious heels. "You are scrawny…" Here, she sighed as she squeezed his thin biceps and then raised an eyebrow at the flash of annoyance which crossed his face and at the clenching of his fist, his wiry muscles bunched. "… but not without your own strength, I suppose. Not my type," she added then with a small laugh, her tongue running along her lower lip.

Aleiko suppressed a shudder. _You hold no attraction for me either_, he wished to say, but bit down on his tongue. _One day_, he vowed, _one day. You will show them._

_Today is not the day._

* * *

**So, slavery... SUCKS. This is not supposed to be exotic or anything. (ALTHOOOOOUUUGGGHHHH... things to heat up later on. X.X Somehow a sex scene slipped into my story!... Craziness.)**

**NEXT UP: The creation of Silvertongue.  
**

**Update coming on Thursday/Friday.**

**Aleiko/Ulfrbarn/Lagreinn is now around 15 or so.**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
oma'auzha – mother-effer

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	22. A Thin Ray

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**SURVIVED! SURVIVED! EXAMS ARE OVER! YES! My students all did well - didn't have to fail any! Heeheehee~**

**Thanks to all who are faving and alerting this fic! It's encouraging to know that peeps are watching out for this story and I encourage you guys to not be afraid to chat! For those who reviewed the last chapter - A HEARTFELT THANK YOU! You guys are the best!**

**To: Immortal Sailor Cosmos (peeps in Loki's life are scum of the earth!), wbss21 (some interesting times up ahead! I hope you enjoy!), DragonsFlame117 (keep cheering for Loki! He'll need it!), Double-Gemini (hope you feel better!).  
**

**And also, be sure to check my warnings!**

**Warning! Warning! Slavery! References to prostitution and other nastiness. Warning! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 22  
A Thin Ray

"What do you think? Pink? Purple?"  
"I told you – that's not the one that he should be using –"  
"Masser Ola'abratha said to me the other day that Kor'ani was looking a little paunchy – which you know, it's true, I mean – have you seen her lately?"  
"It's the drugs, right?"  
"Don't start them is what I say."  
"Has anyone seen two black feathers –"  
"Hey! You there! Another of these –"  
"She can't zip it up –"  
"Needs to lose some stones, I tell you – positively gargantuan. I'm talking the size of a Guarra – and you know that just doesn't cut it in this kind of biz. They always like'em slim and tiny – like little Kol'la here. Kol'la, dear, what is with the long face? Master Rara-dou'ma being silly again? Tell Glo-glo!"

Chaos reigned back stage. As usual. Girls ran back and forth, shoving on their costumes at the last minute as the stand-up comedian finished his routine to a good-natured roar of laughter. Laughter. That was a good sign. Bright moods passed back and forth between the client and entertainer and this night looked to be a pretty fair evening. The dancers were lining up, props boys dashing about, other aliens hydrating (or the opposite) in preparation for the long routine ahead.

Dancing girl Number 371 of the zGa Run, known as 'Glo-glo', pulled the slender form of young Kol'la close in her usual comforting way, green hands squeezing his firm shoulders gently. Young Kol'la of Poison Paradise was now considered a veteran having worked there for a goodly number of years. With slowly earned experience, a knack for language, an athletic flexibility and sense of style, the slender boy grew and learned through experience. Thanks to his survival instincts, often compared to that of a dirt-side rodent, in a world in which the only constant was change, Kol'la built for himself a niche at the Poison Paradise. Kol'la's jobs were many – either he was waiting on customers – dashing between the kitchens and the many round tables which dotted the large first floor of the night club – or he was entertaining the masses in some fashion. Everyone entertained at Poison Paradise. Kol'la usually aided Master Rara with the magical show or the clowns and comedy performers with their tricks and comic reenactments. If there was no need for his serving or magical skills, Kol'la danced - something that he grew better at as his awkwardness vanished and as he grew into mastery of his slowly increasing height.

This evening, he was supposed to be helping Master Rara, but the temperamental showman had not only changed the programme at the last minute (without telling the stage master), but had slapped Kol'la when the young entertainer had suggested quietly to stick to the original plan. Then, the cranky half-Skrull, half…something... bid Kol'la return to the kitchen to wash dishes where "all other pretentious, would-be magicians and shapeshifters belonged".

_Master Rara can't shift his shape_, Kol'la grumbled to himself, _so he must be jealous of my abilities… He knows I dislike waiting on others – and he knows that my abilities are better than his!_

"It is nothing," Kol'la finally said. "I must go to the kitchens."  
"Kitchens?" Glo-glo tipped her head, pursing bright red lips. "Master Rara doesn't want you on the stage tonight, does he? Really, Kol'la, you should talk to Madame and see if you can do your own show."  
"If I do that, then he will kill me," Kol'la tried to wriggle out of her shape-shifting hands which were creeping down his chest. "I had best get going."  
"Kol'la," Glo-glo shook her head, laughing lightly and letting him go, yet tugging on his white shirt-sleeve and adjusted his collar and jerking his dark vest a little bit more so he looked more like a dapper waiter and less like a disgruntled magician's apprentice. "You are growing into a man, you know – and you have to fight for yourself and what you want as well. If you catch the eye of a client and they were to take fancy to you, you could – Have you no ambition?"  
"We are –"_ Slaves_, he wanted to remind her. _Not even our names belong to us._ Kol'la didn't finish his sentence, his pale lips forming a thin, hard line. "I will think on it."  
"Hm."

Glo-glo watched him go with a sigh and shook her head. The boy was going to be trouble. She had a feeling. Despite his long time spent in Poison Paradise, there was something sharp and hard and wild underneath those cool green eyes – something untamed and powerful. A worrisome thing. She would speak to the Madame. Perhaps there was something she could do.

**[... what can be done?]**

**[... these unfortunate souls...]**

A moon cycle later (not that you could really see any of Sharda'aa's small, faint moons thanks to the pollution and bright lights), Kol'la stood before the rowdy, varied clientele of Poison Paradise. On his head, he wore a tight band of leather and bone – a half-helmet adorned with proudly mounted, curving horns bound to a vivid blue brow lined with his mysterious lineage symbols. As he had fitted the ornate head-gear over long dark hair, Kol'la had smirked with pride.

There had been no signs of his Jotunn heritage on his brow – until now. A false attainment, but important to him nonetheless. Faint memories rose of Elska and Helblindi. He pushed them down viciously. This was his moment and whatever he drew on for strength would not belong to those long lost to him. _My first step to inventing who I am_, he thought as he adjusted the green short-cloak which fell back over slowly broadening shoulders. Underneath was his usual choice of a white tunic, dark green over-tunic and black, soft r'senk'ne leather pants which ended with sturdy n'ch'nka leather boots.

He was ready. It was his time. His chance to show his worth.

Sweeping outwards, his hands twisted downward, the lighting responded immediately to his unspoken command and the crowd fell silent as his light tenor swept over the room. He would begin – a tale of darkness and starlight and wild Titans before the creation of the universe. Stars blinked into existence with fury and sound, fire-red and orange flared and music flared and his voice rode as he swirled across the stage.

Lithe body bending and twisting athletically, Kol'la brought to bear his slowly hoarded talents – the memory of Elska's tales, Mage Opna's epic stories, Thyrstr's bawdy humour, Lind and Ketill's sarcasm, the strength of miners and the sultry grace of this poisonous paradise's dancers and entertainers. There was the threat of wilderness – Utanheim – and cold – Jotunheim – and chains – a moon above Tarnax III – and illusions and dreams – Sharda'aa.

And when it ended –

**[... it always ends...]**

There was thunderous applause, scented blossoms tossed and blown kisses from the other entertainers who had come to see Kol'la fail – and instead found themselves caught up in a rare wonder.

"He's got raw talent, that one does," said a clown, shaking his head.  
"A chunk of chi'iano inside a piece of lead," agreed another.  
"Got a tongue inside his head –"  
"Magic to boot –"

"You see that explosion he summoned?"  
"Illusions, idiot."  
"Damn good'uns."

"Makes you wonder what he'd be up to with his magic all intact. Scary thought, huh. We'll have to watch him a bit more carefully, you think? Of course the girls are gonna be all over him now."  
"Not that he'll pay them much mind, Olf."  
"Y'think?"  
"Yeah."

"That oma'auzha... He was hiding some ability like that..."  
"Boss-man is going to want to get him a regular gig. You watch -"  
"It's all about money with Boss-man."  
"I can see him having a regular gig now. Although he's young..."  
"Brilliant future that one has."

It was those last words – two of the club Skrull bouncers chatting by the stage door – that caught Master Rara's attention. The tall, elderly magician frowned as he contemplated the young stunted Jotunn savage (if you believed its blue skin and false horns) who now bowed his way graciously off the stage. There was an unsettling smirk on the boy's face.

_A mere boy. A Jotunn runtling – if you go by the rumours_, he grunted. _The Boss-man would not possibly think –_ But then, Master Rara noticed that the Third Madame was making her way over to the slave boy and was talking with him. She was bending down and saying something and then drawing him away to the side – and back and around and up, he knew, up to the Boss-man's office.

Master Rara's stomach sank and he cursed to himself. Rubbing his chin, he considered the possibilities. Then he remembered. He grinned.

_There is Flighty Fingers._

He chuckled.

_That would just about do it._

-0-0-0-

Boss-Man was the Floor's nickname for the incredibly wealthy, tight-fisted, hard-hearted owner of the Poison Paradise. The alien club owner had a difficult life competing with the rest of the planet's entertainment options in the endless struggle for economic survival. As such, new and exciting forms of entertainment were always a must – and at the sight of Kol'la's epic story-telling show, the Boss-Man realized that the small investment he had made in serving boys was going to pay off in a way he had never imagined.

It made the Lizard-man salivate.

**[... the call...]**

**[... the lure of greatness...]**

When Kol'la was ushered into the Boss-man's office (divested of his costume and wearing his preferred disguise of pale skin and green eyes), the first thing he noticed was the breadth of the Boss-man's wood desk. It was wood – he could tell by the grains which ran along it from side to side. Genuine wood. In a world of plastic and metal, a thing of great price... _Where did he get it from?_ Kol'la wondered to himself, green eyes fastened on it. _Midgard? It is not iron wood..._

Cluttered with writing implements, tablets, discs, plasti-sheets and other files, the desk stretched back into the large room. Behind the desk, sat the Boss-man himself, currently facing the large window which overlooked the main area of the club below. Lights flickered dimly through the frosted windows which Kol'la knew could change in transparency depending on what the Boss-man was doing inside.

Boss-man loved the dancing girls.

Kol'la shifted a little, betraying, he knew, his deep-seated nervousness. The Third Madame announced his arrival and then left, closing the door behind him. For a moment, silence. Then the chair turned.

"That was an interesting show..." Boss-man lifted up a tablet lazily. "Kol'la, is it?"  
"Yes, sir, master, sir."  
"'Sir' is fine."  
"Yes, sir."  
"You seem to be a born story-teller. A real silvertongue. Kol'la Silvertongue. That has a nice ring, doesn't it?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Smart boy."

Kol'la bit back protest at the word 'boy', but just nodded and stared at the Boss-man's hands – pink today. Midgardian flesh was Boss-man's preferred skin colour. Midgardian and Asgardian. _A show of power... but_, Kol'la thought, _also frailty_. And on the fingers were heavy metal rings and other similar tawdry nonsense.

Heavy and biting if the Boss-man hit him on the face. Those hands could deliver freedom or pain... Kol'la watched as the Boss-man scrolled through yet another flat tablet.

"Master Rara, bless his heart, has a magic show every other night – and... hmmm... a story-telling routine on the alternating days. Ahhh... Well, let us remove one night from his busy schedule. Allow his elderly heart some rest... What think you, Kol'la? It pleases you?"  
"Yes, sir," Kol'la nodded eagerly, straightening his shoulders.

_At last. Recognition for my talent!_

"It's a tough business, Kol'la. You will still aid Master Rara when he wishes your help... and there will always be waiting on patrons and dancing... but an hour every week, I am sure will not tax your new-found storytelling skills."  
"Yes, sir."  
"Hm."

Pause. More scrolling.

"Next week this time, then," Boss-man decided and typed a few things into his tablet. "You will receive confirmation from Madame Iso'oo tomorrow morning. And discuss with her the next story you wish to tell."  
"Yes, sir."  
"This is exciting... Kol'la," Boss-man smiled then and Kol'la stared back, unwilling to allow himself the luxury of returning the favour. "I look forward to seeing what Kol'la Silvertongue has to show us."  
"Thank you, sir."  
"You may go then."  
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."  
"Hmph," Boss-man grunted, swivelled his chair about and waved negligently.

Kol'la fled, heart pounding – feeling as though he could fly to the sky – and yet, feeling even more aware of the expectations of the others around him.

Silvertongue was in the spotlight. This was his chance to shine.

Or fall.

* * *

**So the birth of Silvertongue has arrived. But not Loki. Not yet! Soon!**

**Coming up: Kol'la's drastic change in fortune! ANGST! (of course)**  
**(why are you surprised?)**  
**(it's me!)**

**Please review! Let's see if this fic can break 100! XDDD**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
oma'auzha – mother-effer

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	23. Moon Setting

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**WOW! Thanks guys! I'm glad you guys are still hanging in there... dark times ahead but also a promise of better times! We're so close to what you guys have been waiting for! SO CLOSE!**

**And um, thanks to all those who reviewed! To: Ica Leigh (GOOD CALL! you know me well...), DragonsFlame117 (keep cheering! he's gonna need it!), Double-Gemini (hmm... when IS he going to get all his powers back? can't say~ I'm such a tease!), perfidiouspink (he'll do it - in a way!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (congrats! and thanks! and enjoy!), wbss21 (perceptive as always! I think this life holds a lot of good and bad in extremes...)**

**Guest: Welcome! Why aren't there more reviews? I dunno... (tear) I guess it's not a very accessible fic. Or there isn't any slash or sex... or... hm. Maybe my summary is too understated. LOL. But I'm glad you are enjoying it! Thanks so much for the encouragement. I'll see you round... I hope~**

**The beginning of this chapter wasn't originally there - but I wrote it as a teaser-gift for Immortal Sailor Cosmos (for being reviewer 100) and added it here. If it feels odd... SORRY!**

**Warning! Warning! Slavery! Rape! Sexual assault of a ****(sort of) **minor! Warning! Warning!

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 23  
Moon Setting

**[... our fates are intertwined - did you know?]**

**[... and the worlds are connected...]**

**[... they are calling to each other -]**

**[... do you hear them calling?**

Muspelheim is a land of red. Red and orange and yellow and heat. It is the land with the heart of a thousand suns. It is light.

From its warmth came power and combined with the ice of Niflheim, the rest of the Nine Realms had been birthed and so it and its fire-eating residents became, like other things in this cosmos, the stuff of legends.

To some, a dangerous land best left to the dragons, the drakes, the fire serpents, the Sons of Fire and the other exotic beasts which crawled its volcanic, cracked, red-veined surfaces.

Muspelheim. To some, a dangerous land. To others, the ultimate adventure. To Thor, all that and more: a chance for honour and glorious combat and something rejuvenating after the long, mind-numbing hours spent in court at his father's side.

_And why not?_ The young warrior thought, pleased with himself as he reached the edge of the cliff face they had been aiming for. _This is a worthy prize – the treasure of Hyrrfastr the Fire-Drake. The fabled Blarmenegg. A mighty conquest for Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three._

Looking down from his height, Thor took stock of his surroundings - the craggy, stark mountains which rose on his left from the cliff face upon which he stood, the ungentle slope which descended on his right to the valley before him. The valley which had been cut by ungentle rivers of fire (if the tales of witless aged men were to be believed) however was not as empty as he would have liked.

_Already someone has come to lay claim –_ Thor's anger rose and his battle spirit rose at the sight of the Fire-Drake shrieking and swaying and roaring amongst a small group of alien warriors. Heat rose in waves, shimmering as though it could be seen with the naked eye and the lines of the far mountains swayed. Fire licked the walls of the valley – and the dark, promising door of Hyrrfastr's lair.

And on the far cliff opposite him, Thor eyed the unfamiliar metal vehicle from which poured even more of the strange warriors – a tall, block-like race wearing strange gear and hefting long pikes from which poured lightning. Mjolnir called. Thor smiled.

This was a good day.  
His day.

**[... the vagaries of Fate...]**

Kol'la danced beneath the hidden stars. The world narrowed to the curves of the woman's skin beneath his fingertips and the beat of the music resounding from the sides of the wide stage. His slim hips dipped and swayed as he pulled in and then out, twirling the diminutive dancing girl who partnered with him during the opening sequence of that evening's entertainment set. Using her tall, pale-blue-skinned, shape-shifting partner more as a pole than as a fellow dancer, the more experienced female Thoran showed off her sizable assets and sexy tail for the appreciative male audience.

Then Kol'la was out front, arms swooping and feet moving with swift grace to the increasingly quickening rhythm. Red eyes glittered underneath the pulsing spotlights as the narrow waist and long legs displayed the entertainer's natural agility and flexibility. Long dark hair, neatly combed and perfumed swung across his face as his head turned swiftly to the well-learned choreography.

Then Hro'ti was back in his arms again and with strength belied by his slender frame, Kol'la lifted her and set her down, allowing her to twine about his spread legs and come out to the front again from between them.

Below, in the pit, eyes were fixed on the two stars of the evening – the ever lovely Cor'ra and Cha'veli. But some noticed and admired the exotic nature of the small, would-be Jotunn. One in particular, a hefty-sized Freszan. Black beady eyes fixed on the inviting low-riding leather pants which clung to the adolescent's neat hips.

_Master Rara is right_, the Freszan thought. _This is a rare jewel of great price - even dressed in the skin of a savage. It should be mine._

It would be his.

**[... the wheel turns slowly...]**

**[... it turns slowly...]**

It was one of those nights when Kol'la Silvertongue was on the floor serving drinks and food that a regular patron of Poison Paradise, eyeing the lithe figure and the remote look, laid hand on Kol'la's leather clad thigh invitingly. A common enough sight in such a world – an unspoken invitation to add to Kol'la's personal fund. Ordinarily, there would be a slight shake of the head in dismissal or an alluring smile and a return nod which would signal an invitation. Then, the entertainer would slip out with said customer and gain a few more cred pieces in hopes that one day, their stock pile would be large enough to free them.

Kol'la had himself dismissed many such advantages before and this occasion was like any other – a firm shake of the head and with that he turned away, carrying his empty tray tucked neatly up underneath his arm. A large hand from behind jerked him back suddenly, forcing him onto a broad lap and for a moment, his legs flew out as his rump bumped up against a hard muscular thigh of the Freszan.

This evening, Kol'la had been forced to don low-riding soft-leather pants with an open, sleeveless vest top – and the Freszan's large, four-fingered hand ran down the youth's chest easily as warm breath ghosted over his neck and a chuckle resounded through his back and into his ear.

The young Jotunn understood immediately as the stench of risen-ale wafted past him. A drunk customer. A Freszan. Easily belligerent. _Saying no will not be so simple_, he gritted his teeth. _Up until now..._ Breathing through his nose while attempting to keep his calm, Kol'la attempted to twist up and away from the heavy fingers which ghosted over his neck, collarbone and then back down to his chest. The Freszan – _what was his name?_ Kol'la tried to remember. _Something unpronounceable. Lovey had nicknamed him Flighty Fingers._ Irony. Sarcasm. Kol'la had learned those things within the first moon cycle of his stay on Poison Paradise.

"I will make it worth your while, Silvertongue," said Flighty Fingers, his rock-like voice rumbled underneath the loud flashes of song and dance emanating from the first stage. No one paid attention to Kol'la's abortive movements. "Play along."  
"I do not play," huffed Kol'la, trying to get some space between himself and the massive chest pressed up against him. "And truthfully, I do not know the rules enough to – it would suit you better, sir, to ask Ta'ko or Shin'yi."  
"But none have such lovely changeable skin or such fine hands, Kol'la. And that silver tongue of yours... Come now –"

Kol'la's shoulders were twisted painfully round about and his cry of annoyance and protest were muffled by a suffocating weight of lips on his own. The youth bit down hard, drawing blood and his fingers twirled in an intricate sigil as he whispered a small illusion – snakes which crawled out of the half empty cups of ale on the table beside them. At the sight of the twisting dark things, several female patrons leaped up shrieking. Flighty Fingers jerked back instinctively and Kol'la took the slight shift as an opportunity to ram the tray he had held onto (as a possible shield or weapon) into the Freszan's throat. As Flighty Fingers choked, Kol'la pulled away – and bumped into the intimidating personage of the Boss-Man himself.

"Kol'la," he grabbed the youth by the back of his collar and hauled him off the lap of the choking Freszan. "My apologies, kind sir – Ta'ko! Attend to this patron immediately!" The ever obsequious Ta'ko scurried over. "Bring this gentleman to the medic and see to his injuries. Have Master Ako-a'nai present him some vouchers and if he begs your company, you know what to do." The Boss-man's grip on Kol'la's neck tightened ominously. "I have some training to do."

With that, Kol'la was jerked past the other tables as a few of the clients, understanding what had happened and what was to follow, whistled appreciatively. Kol'la knew better than to raise a hand against his master - but a part of him, the suicidal part, the wild child would not let him bend so easily to the wishes of others. And so he fought silently, mulishly, and dragged his feet as he was forced into a secluded room in the far back of the building. Kol'la knew. He knew what this would lead to...

**[... this is the way of the world...]**

**[... this dark path upon which one is set...]**

Training took all night long and the next week. It began with the Boss-man and Masters Ako-a'nai and L'iku. Others, equally courageous or fond of rough sport, came as well to the dark room and the uncomfortable, grimy bed that Kol'la found himself tethered to. As if he were a goat or a mare or some such animal – as if they could tame him as Mage Opna had attempted to so many years ago. Kol'la knew better and yet...

**[... and yet...]**

The harsh lesson he learned underneath the flooring of the Slavers' ship and on the dark side of a barren moon was only too fresh within his mind. Bitter disappointment and hate seethed, but without light, without company, without food and water, Kol'la found it difficult to continue the fight. He lived alone. He lived alone in the dark, with his magic removed entirely. Kol'la's skin was now as pale as a gorm-flo worms which crawled in the unseen dirt of the planet (or so they said) and marked with bruising prints of hands on his ribs and hips and thighs. The dark-haired, green-eyed youth did not weep. He fought. He fought tooth and nail – and when he showed no sign of breaking, with a sigh Boss-man lectured him on what waited for Kol'la.

**[... only a darker road...]**

**[... but even darkness ends...]**

Kol'la responded with nothing but a hiss and a growl and a few well-chosen words. That night, the Boss-man's touch made no attempt at gentleness and pleasure was ripped unwillingly from his slender throat and sensitive skin. Alien blood welled underneath Kol'la's clawing nails and his tongue tasted iron before the night was over.

"He is a feral thing," the Boss-man told his tall friend two days later – the proprietor of The Battle House franchise down the road. "More suited to your place, I think, Shax. You can deal with the Slavers when they come round next. Good lot, I think, and will compensate you well."  
"Feral?" Shax rubbed his pointy chin and raised a busy eyebrow at the Boss-man. "A feral child?"  
"Jotunn, I believe. That's what they told me – and he can fake the markings, thanks to his shape-shifting abilities. But who really knows, eh? He's small for one. Never heard of a runt Jotunn like that before." He snorted then. "But he has magic. The magic collar can be adjusted. If you want a blue warrior –"  
"The child has no muscle –"  
"It is strong," the Boss-man grinned then. "A wiry kind of strength. Don't let his looks fool you – and besides – I think he would do well for showmanship and magical duelling. With the proper incentive..." He paused.  
"Uh-huh?"  
"He is a whirlwind of chaos is Silvertongue –"  
"Just because he won't make a good whore doesn't mean he'll make a better warrior –" Shax shook his head and bent down from his greater height to eye the quivering slave who looked back at him with fiery green eyes. "He seems rather biddable –"

The thin lips tightened and as Shax's hand descended, a slender hand rose and within its palm a small dagger of ice formed and stabbed into the black alien's tough skin. Ice splintered everywhere against Shax's iron skin, but Shax drew back and grunted to himself.

"Yes, I see."  
"Told you."  
"He commands ice?"  
"And fire and other things as well. You'd need a magician to set the adjustments properly – or no doubt you'd lose a slave."  
"Well," Shax rose then and nodded, hands on his non-existent hips. "If you are certain –"  
"I am. I've tried this whole moon cycle. You can tell with these kinds. It's in the eyes."  
"Yes, you always say that, hmph. Well."  
"I was right last time with Roc'co."  
"You were," Shax agreed a shake of his head. "Very well. I will take him off your hands. Standard regulations apply."  
"As always."  
"My pleasure."  
"No, no," Boss-man smiled, relaxing for the first time in a long while. A wide smile crossed his crooked lizard's face. "It is mine – come, I've got a nice stash of risen-ale for you to sample. And you can send a man round tonight to fetch the creature."  
"Risen-ale? Well. That sounds grand," Shax bent down to pass through the door into an equally low-ceilinged hall (for him). "A toast to another bargain well-struck does not sound amiss."  
"What you think you'll do with him anyways?"  
"Hm. I'll have him serving at first. See what he can do in the ring. Don't want him to die on the first day." A harsh laugh. "Remember O'tho?"  
"Do I remember!" Boss-man was chuckling now as well. Their voices faded leaving the slave still chained to the bed. "Purple blood, right – getting it out of the sand was such a –" The far door closed.

Kol'la pulled himself up to the headboard of the large bed and huddled there, shivering at the prospect of The Battle-House. He remembered Mayultha's dreams. _If I had kept my tongue in my head – if I – if I could – _He squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly._ I would be free so easily. But I cannot. Why can I not?_

Biting his lip, Kol'la gulped, trying to keep the small meal they had fed him several hours earlier down. Mage Opna's hands... the weight of the Boss-man on his back... the laughter of the dancing girls who had teased him... cries of pain and something else they called passion in the small cubicles... what he saw in passing as he walked down the halls at night... He had always turned his eyes away, but Kol'la had learned exactly what Mage Opna had done those many years ago.

The hard pit in his stomach tightened and roiled unpleasantly as he remembered their eyes – Mage Opna's eyes, Boss-man's eyes... and the others. The many, many others who had talked above him, hands stripping away the privacy and respect he had attempted to hoard. That which he had lost so easily. Commenting on the strangeness of his biology and praising his beauty and other attributes – as if he were nothing more than an animal or rare stone.

And now he was fodder. Fodder for the play of war.

Kol'la did not cry. But he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

**[... and many more larger sun cycles passed...]**

**[... such is relentless nature of time...]**

**[... and what it brings...]**

**[... what does it bring?]**

"Kol'la," Shax beckoned the now wirey serving boy over. The young slave was a fighter-in-training, not having been blooded yet in the proper way. However, Shax was a patient man and knew that Kol'la, while lacking experience, did have potential. This seemed like a good opportunity to Shax - to test Kol'la and develop some rare opportunities. "Slavers are coming round tomorrow – the, uh, usual thing. Your contract is renewed – but they'll be bringing us fresh ones – so you'll need to report into Master Klo'a'aa. He'll need help airing out the east wing, second floor dormitories. If it works out well, I want you to try your hand as a Handler. You hear?"  
"Yes," Kol'la replied obediently, face blank, and made his way immediately for the staff entrance behind the long bar and disappeared into the kitchens and beyond.

Shax nodded and smiled as he looked over the Slavers' manifests. This was going to be interesting.

_New slaves. Youths._ He grinned as he eyed the races and home worlds from which they had been torn. _Elves, Chitauri, Kree, mortals... cannon fodder mosta them..._ His eyes lit on a few others. _Asgardians._

He grinned._ A rare opportunity - but worth the investment, worth the pain. Now there's a fight worth seeing._

* * *

**Now, when I say 'youth', I use it in the sense that Kol'la is more or less a teen - around 15 years old. So... biologically, totes capable of having and enjoying sex. Historically (I mean Earth history), rich young boys (between 12 - 14) would be introduced to the arts of sex with the help of their father's favoured courtesan. Also, considering the place he's working in, this shouldn't be a shocking thing for you, the reader. It isn't to Kol'la! But he's obviously got some hang ups - which we will explore later... poor guy. And of course, things just got worse and worse... (until he got to Shax's Battle-House).**

**Thanks again for reading! Please comment! It is like how coffee is to our beloved Hiddleston - the gas in my engine!  
**

**Update is coming round on Friday, or thereabouts!**

**-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

**Alien Glossary:**

Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
oma'auzha – mother-effer

**Jotunheim Glossary:**

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	24. Sun's Dawn

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**So... thanks to all who have reviewed! To all who are faving this monster! Thanks so much! Thanks to: perfidiouspink, DragonsFlame117, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, Double-Gemini, wbss21!**

**Also - take heed of my warnings. They are for real... XD**

**Warning! Warning! Slavery! Warning! Warning! Gladiator stuffs and violence! Warning! Warning!**

**Now... onward to the moment we are all waiting for!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 24  
Sun's Dawn

**[… the music of the spheres ring out…]**

**[… eternal harmony…]**

**[… the spirits of the realms sing…]**

**[… can you hear them calling?]**

Everyday began the same way – the raucous, metallic drone of the slave quarters' alarms. Where there had been muffled whispers and rustling, there was now loud shouting and taunting and joking and other such morning sounds. Black shutters were slid back to reveal the grey skyscrapers and domed towers which reached above them to an equally grey-black sky. Synth-lights and flashing bulbs flared, lighting the rooms and shower stalls with blue and red and purple and other colours through slits someone might have called windows.

Kol'la rose silently, as was his wont, and managed to elbow his way to a shower. Pressed up against two Skrulls and a heavy-set, slick R'Svthinn, he scrubbed his body swiftly, pushing away prying hands and ignoring the barbed jokes aimed his way. Everyone treated him as his skin demanded – a kind of Midgardian, they supposed him. His pale skin, after all, did not exude the healthy glow of Asgard naturally. And after the collar's magic level was adjusted, his hair remained in its natural state – black.

Knowing how the others would treat him if he admitted his background, Kol'la had long ago decided to hide his Jotunn heritage, presenting it only as a trick for those fools who thought savages to be wild exotic things. _It is not like they would believe me at any rate_, he thought sourly, eyeing his height in the cracked mirror available across from the showers. _I still show no sign of being a giant. No horns. No gargantuan height._ He sighed. _Regardless... they would just take that as permission to treat me like a savage._

_Things are bad enough as they are._

The shower was a quick one, easily accomplished now that his hair was cut shorter than he had ever experienced before in his long life. It laid neatly combed back to the nape of his neck. Slipping on his usual black breeches, green tunic, black leather vest and worn boots, Kol'la made his way to the Allotment Room, also named the 'Employee Lounge'. Not that slaves were allowed to utilize the room. Once he was told his duties for the day – serving, washing dishes, running errands, dancing or fighting (really just training) – Kol'la made his way swiftly to his station.

Dawdling was forbidden. Talking sedition was forbidden. Using magic without strict control was forbidden. Romancing others in a serious fashion (if Kol'la had had an interest) was forbidden. Using weaponry outside the ring or training rooms was forbidden.

_Forbidden. Forbidden. Forbidden._

More than ever, the bonds of his existence bore deeply into the Jotun's soul. Kol'la itched for chaos, for wide spaces, for wildernesses and for the stars.

**[… Heimsrsal's split soul keened…]**

**[… Asgard's spirit stirred uneasily…]**

**[… wanderlust awoke…]**

Asgard. The Realm Eternal. Golden and unchanging, it stands head and shoulders, literally, above the other realms, the other worlds and civilizations housed in the broad embrace of Yggdrasil. Yggdrasil, the World Tree, the broad expanse of stars which hang together within the Void... birthed from what? Only the Ancients and the Titans could say.

Yes. It stands head and shoulders above the rest – literally, they say, for this Realm hangs above the others – broad and vast. Its solid foundations were birthed out of fire, ice and magic, they say, and this magical Realm is the bridge between what is and what is not. In this, Asgard stands not alone, for the other Eight Realms hold their office as well – their spirits still strong and vital, if not as powerful as Asgard's Heart. With the destruction of prideful Jotunheim, Asgard now reigns alone above the rest – a bridge between the physical and the raw materials of unseen power – the ultimate technology, the strongest monopoly on magic.

If the tales of drunk space sailors and heartless bandits are to be believed, Asgard is a treasure trove, a bright place, second only to the fabled Valhalla itself. Filled with fertile lands, golden fields of produce, orchards blessed with Ithunn's power herself, Asgard is a fair land. Its inhabitants, known as the Aesir, are tall, brawny, powerful immortals who answer to no creature save Odin Allfather. Often given to adventure, Asgardians are a capricious lot, the stories tell, fond of brawling, subjugating, feasting and leaving destruction in their wake.

Remembering Elska's and Opna's tales of the Long War, Kol'la was not so impressed by the Boss-man's new catch.

_They will bring nothing but trouble_, he thought as the Fourth Madame adjusted the magic on his collar to allow him enough ability for defence should the young Aesir captives take umbridge to Kol'la's services. _Most of all to myself..._ he eyed his pale skin and thought of the tell-tale markings hidden within. _If they discovered..._ Kol'la grimaced and then frowned determination. _They will never find out._ He grinned then bitterly. _A splendid trick indeed._

Upon arrival, the Slavers had recommended the high security detainment all for the three Asgardian youths. Kol'la, watching the forcibly subdued – chained and sedated – warriors be wheeled off, strapped down to broad metal frames, approved of the Boss-man's decision to follow the Slavers' advice. However, Kol'la, known for his ability to speak various languages fluently and his ability to mediate, was not so pleased to discover that he was the Boss-man's primary candidate for working as Liaison and Handler.

As it was, a full day and a half passed before the largest of the captives stirred. The blonde, husky Asgardian, judging by his short scruff and still round face, looked rather young, which no doubt explained why he had been captured. His two fellow warriors – a shorter, slighter, fair-looking young man and a black-haired, taciturn looking fellow – still lay unconscious further down the room. Kol'la, who had been adjusting the nutrition bags ordered by the Boss-man (which trickled through feeding tubes inserted down their throats), turned at the sound of arms suddenly jerking and legs twisting and the unpleasant sound of gagging.

"Hey now," he glared at the blue eyes which were wildly roaming about the room sightlessly – obviously bewildered and disoriented. "Just a minute... Breathe deep and then we can talk." Deftly but carefully, as he had been taught, Kol'la pulled the tube out and let the new slave breath in deeply.  
"Where am I? Where is this? Who are you? Speak quickly!"

The slave's deep voice (now a little hoarse) barked out as large fists clenched and well-defined muscles jumped. Metal clinked against metal as the wrist and ankle restraints rattled from the Asgardian's attempts to escape. Kol'la, face smirking with the cynicism of long experience, stood back and watched.

_He is one of those_, he thought feeling more annoyed than usual. _Of course. The type who speak before they think. And never listen._

"You are on Sharda'aa, the Planet of Pleasures in the prestigious Battle-House of Shax," Kol'la finally drawled when the slave fell back winded. "My name is Kol'la Silvertongue. I will be your... Liaison and Handler during your... stay... here. Pleased to be of service." He bowed then and his dark head rose, face marred with a cynical, twisted smile.  
"You would dare lay a hand on a warrior of Asgard, you swine!" blustered the young warrior. "Do you not know who I am?"

Kol'la snorted. _Of course. The usual grandiose blustering of all those who stand from on high. Things look rather different down here, do they not, warrior of Asgard?_ For a few seconds, anger surged in Kol'la, his green eyes flashing and his face twisted in a silent snarl. Then, realizing that the new slave had lain back and was watching him, his broad face now showing confusion and interest, Kol'la's expression became shuttered.

"I have no idea who you are, numbskull, as we have just met," he finally said. "No doubt you will deliver some meaningless deception –"  
"I am Prince Thor of Asgard, Kol'la of the Silvertongue – and I do not LIE!"  
"Prince... pardon?" Kol'la laughed. "Now that is some tale –"  
"I am Prince Thor – son of Odin –"  
"Yes, yes, I know of whom you speak. The only son of Odin Allfather. His pride and joy – a feted warrior of some note, they say," Kol'la smirked. "Spoiled and brainless, it is told, and ever courts destruction and endangerment with the reckless abandon of the foolhardy. But I see no hammer about you." Here, the Jotunn tipped his head eyeing his people's enemy with amusement. "Perhaps you mislaid it?"  
"Mjolnir – Mjolnir –" The blonde, would-be prince looked about as if to expect something to be there, when it was not. "It is not near? Where – where – where am I?"  
"Sharda'aa," Kol'la repeated, annoyance rising. He folded his arms and glared down at the renewed struggles of the captive. "I said that before. You do seem to be as witless as the Prince is said to be."  
"You will pay for this –"  
"Now you blame me?"  
"Well... No..." A pause. The warrior eyed the slight, tall figure of the young man before him – noting the collar around the long pale neck and the tired age behind the green eyes. "You are a slave too, aren't you?"

Kol'la's slender hands unfolded from his arms and he clapped long and slow, an empty smile crossing his face.

"You have finally established a solid fact in your thick skull, I see," Kol'la smirked. "How did you guess? Was it the collar around my neck? My poor clothing? Or the fact that a well-spoken person such as myself can be found in an establishment such as this?"

The warrior relaxed back on the flat pillow behind his head, his blue eye still trained on the green ones before him, taking note of the roughly cut, dark hair and the cheap clothing on the slave's back.

"It was in your eyes," the Asgardian said quietly. A pause, during which Kol'la blinked, face still carefully blank. The warrior shrugged. "You all look the same. In the eyes."  
"We all look the same," Kol'la said, in a flash bending over the new slave, his long hand jerking on the metal collar now securely bound about the warrior's broad neck. White teeth bared in a wordless snarl before he continued. "It is we now. Prince. Thor. Although I still find that hard to believe –"  
"When my father comes to get me," the warrior interrupted Kol'la's vitriolic speech, "and he will come, he will destroy this world and everyone on it should they deny him. Help me – and I will personally guarantee your safety - and freedom."  
"Help you? Help – help –" Kol'la nearly keeled over laughing, his face wracked with mirth and disbelief and anger all in one. A chaotic jumble of emotion. "And how would I be able to help the oh so awesome and powerful Prince Thor of Asgard?" He asked sarcastically.  
"You could aid me in learning the weaknesses of these people and prepare for the coming of the rest," replied the supposed-prince simply. "You would become a fellow ally and in the moment when Asgard arrives, you would aid me to overcome my bonds and I would repay you in kind."  
"That is my job, moron."  
"Pardon?"  
"My job is to help you... adjust to your life and... employment... in this lovely garden of vice," Kol'la's voice dripped with sarcasm. "To aid you to escape, that seems a fine trick and within my... interests, given you say you will do the same for me." Green eyes narrowed sharply, pinning the blue ones, as the long-time slave drew back a little. "And how do I know you will keep your promise, supposed-Odinsson?"  
"You have my word," Thor replied. "The word of an Odinsson is always true."

Kol'la searched for any lie in the young warrior's eyes – and found none. It was as the rumours told – Prince Thor was a beast, a handsome warrior, an idiot and the powerful son of the most powerful immortal in the universe, excepting the Titans themselves. Prince Thor was beloved and golden, and as the stories went, honest and true to those who came underneath the protection of his shield. The Jotunn smirked. _The son of Odin in my debt. What better chance than this? And if he lies... the lie will show itself soon enough and I can play it both ways to save my skin. Unlike this fool._

He nodded and Thor's face broke into a broad smile – powerful and beaming like a warm sun.

"Then you have my aid." Kol'la's return smile was broad and wolfish and cold. "And if you have any sense within you, dou'ma, lose the name."

-0-0-0-

Not long after, the other two Asgardians awoke – just as disoriented and displeased as the Prince had been. It seemed like the rumours of All-Speech were true after all – all of the Asgardians were able to communicate with him easily. Kol'la couldn't consider the mysterious matter any longer, however, since the two shorter warriors were rather upset. There was the usual initial struggle followed by belaboured explanations from Kol'la, made even more difficult thanks to Thor's constant interruptions. Then, disgruntled acceptance – once reality settled in.

The slighter, fair-headed one, more cheerful and prone to run off at the mouth, was apparently named Fandral, whilst the dour, more clear-headed and intelligent one was so named Hogun. _More intelligent? That is not saying much_, Kol'la's lip curled up at that. _On the other hand, he is not your ordinary Asgardian specimen… More than likely one of the descendents of some race brought captive to Asgard long, long ago…_

Once he explained their situation to the three warriors ("you will be fighting the brawniest and most dangerous champions of this corner of the galaxy"), the rules ("there are a list of things forbidden here, as you may have guessed - and they are the following...") and punishments ("that collar can fell a Jotunn"), Kol'la left the three to contemplate their existence.

Before he exited the windowless room, Kol'la turned at the door and eyed Hogun who was silently once again testing his bonds. _The three will do so all night_, he supposed. _Go ahead_, the dark-haired slave grinned again sharply then, _waste those hours of rest… and realize your new position. As we have all had to do._

"I will discuss what your first duties will be tomorrow morning," Kol'la finally said, breaking the silence as the three pairs of eyes watched him stand in the door, in the supposed gateway to freedom – the only opening to their cell. "And your names."  
"You know our names," Thor said bewildered.  
"Your new names," repeated Kol'la coldly. "It is supposed to strip you of your identity and prepare you for the new life of a slave… but in this case, accept it gracefully – at least for your own protection. Otherwise we will have more than the usual witless scum volunteering their bodies to pit against you –"  
"Let them come," Thor laughed then. "I will tear them apart and crush them like the fragile –"  
"Without Mjolnir? I think it would not be so easy," Kol'la sighed, wishing his charges did not lack so much commonsense. "At any rate, there is no ifs, ands or buts. You will be gifted new names. Of a sort. You will forget your old ones."  
"Have you forgotten yours?" Hogun asked quietly.

Kol'la did not reply. He left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

_Have you forgotten yours?_

Something familiar welled up within him. He had felt it before. Once again, he was standing before his brother – _nononono_, Kol'la gritted his teeth, attempting to force the memory back down into that box of horrors in the back of his mind – _no_. It did not work - he was back in the great hall. He was standing before his brother and he knew his shame – measured and found wanting. Always found wanting.

_How could I have forgotten –_ he thought bitterly, flinging open the door to his shared dormitory room and stalking to his bed, jerking off his clothing, seeing nothing but what he could not be, could not have.

_How could I have forgotten what I never had?_

* * *

**So a couple of things...**

**1. Let me know what you think! Please review! It helps me know what to tweak and fix up! I do love concrit! And of course ranting about Loki is always fun to read!**

**2. This conversation was really hard for me to write. Let me know what you thought about it! Did I miss the mark totally? Was it OK?**

**3. Some of you might think... a) how as Thor caught and b) Thor was CAUGHT? A moment then to explain. First, more on how he was caught will be revealed. In a way. It's kinda peripheral to the real reason for the story, but it will be discussed later on (literally). Secondly, Thor is not some sort of freakish invulnerable person. He is powerful - but at this point in time, he's only 17 or 18. He's young. He's stupid. He's got no Loki and strategies at his back. Also, even with Mjolnir and everything, Thor isn't the most powerful being in the universe. There's always a bigger fish. So yes, in a way, the Slavers are definitely deus ex machina but in a way it should be totally believable to have species equally or more powerful than an Asgardian teen. I hope this make sense/is OK with you guys!**

**Let me know either way!**

**Thanks so much for reading! I love you all!**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
oma'auzha – mother-effer

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	25. Day By Day I

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks a ton everyone! More people are faving and alerting this - which is so encouraging to me! And a huge thank you and round of applause for those who were kind enough to give me a shout out and chat!**

**Thanks to: Double-Gemini (more shall unfold - I promise), DragonsFlame117 (haha), wbss21 (thank you!), ClaMiAl (welcome!), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (Odin... has a big role in this fic... XD).**

**So I was replanning some of my plot stuff and it seems like it is going to be a bit longer than I thought... more like 65 chapters! So I hope you guys can hang in there with me!**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Gladiator stuffs and violence! Warning! A WHIPPING! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 25  
Day By Day I

Voices were rising from the back of the training room – a tall, lithe, slightly scaled youthful Phantolaxamene was nose to nose (yet again) with the ever vocal slave known as "Exon the Powerful", also playfully nicknamed "the Busty Blonde". Prince Thor in disguise. _Not for long, however_, Kol'la judged, moving down the room to the warriors he was in charge of. _It is only his fifth day here, and he keeps flapping his brainless tongue. The idiotic oaf._

"Rok'ka," the lithe youth inserted himself between the Enforcer and the slave and raised his hands in appeasement. "I apologize for this idiot's tongue. You must understand he has the wits of a child –"  
"I. Am. Not. A. Child!" huffed Thor.  
"You could have fooled me," Kol'la replied sharply. "You have not entered the Pits yet and already you have raised your fists seventeen times – perhaps you were born for battle after all."  
"You dare speak to me this way? I am –"  
"Exon the Powerful. The Busty Blonde," Kol'la reminded the tall warrior and he nudged his sharp elbow into a sensitive spot between Thor's ribs which caused a short 'oof' to come out of the prince-in-disguise. "I might as well call you Muscled Moron for all the sense in you –" Here, Kol'la turned back to the Enforcer and smiled appeasingly. "We apologize –"  
"The man insulted the great Phantolaxa. Reparation…"  
"Speak with Master Shax if you wish for a legitimate challenge –"  
"I do not need any authority to protect my honour," Thor said.  
"He appears to agree with me –"  
"The both of you –"  
"Get out of the way, boy –"  
"Our fists shall meet in glorious combat –"

"STOP! Please!" Kol'la green magic shot out and unpleasantly zapped the two quarrelling warriors. "Exon, this is an Enforcer. A freed Slave who works as a fighter – and you must pay him respect. Furthermore, to disrespect Phantolaxa is tantamount to calling Odin All-Father a One-Eyed –"  
"You dare call my –"  
"See? You see how that is infuriating? How do you think Rok'ka feels?" A pause. Kol'la shot Thor the evil eye before turning back to the Phantolaxamene. "Now, let us part ways and –"

Kol'la never saw Rok'ka's fist coming. One second he was standing before Thor's broad chest, next he was sent tumbling to the floor, nearly blacking out from the pain which spread up sharply from his jaw into his head. Light flared – dimmed – flared – and sound disappeared and then descended with a roar. A literal roar since Thor's ever booming voice was lifted in a familiar war cry, joined by the other fighters also exercising in the large work out room – now all viciously clawing and wrestling each other to the ground. Thor hurled himself at the Phantolaxamene, cursing the alien's parentage and emperor of said planetary system.

Below, Kol'la had an impression of shadows shifting as Thor's bulk moved over him protectively, fists rising to land two hard blows on the Rok'ka's sensitive snout.

_No, no, nononono – Master Shax will have my head for this – unless..._ Wildly, he looked about. The others were being herded efficiently by the guards out of the room. The two Asgardians were yelling at Thor – to no avail. As usual, when the battle called, the prince of Asgard became rather single-minded.

Kol'la cursed and summoning as much magic as his collar would allow, he let the green seep out and then at a muttered command and twisting sigils, the magic materialized and light green ropes snaked forward at lightning speed to pull at the combatants feet. Sweeping both arms to the sides, Kol'la pulled the Phantolaxamene and Asgardian apart. Another blast of magic knocked the scaly alien unconscious. Thor picked himself up and dusted himself off, blue eyes wide as the green magic disappeared.

"Kol'la! You did not tell me that you were a noble warrior!"  
"I am not –"  
"Well, magic is usually something for old men and women, but with some training, you seem as though you would be a fair match against –"  
"Silence, fool!" hissed Kol'la.

More guards were pouring into the room, bundling the Phantolaxamene out and "subduing" the wild Asgardian warrior and his Handler. Kol'la said nothing – his green eyes burning holes into Thor's relaxed profile. Obviously, the warrior was not worried about his immediate future.

_Of course not_, Kol'la grumbled to himself. _He is Master Shax's newest prize, but you, Kol'la, are not so lucky._

_You never were._

-0-0-0-

Twenty minutes later found Kol'la and his charge in Master Shax's Operational Office still getting a nasty dressing down from the very irate Battle-House owner, who paced back and forth and loomed over the tall, thin Handler and his equally tall, brawny Fighter. Apparently Rok'ka had been slated for a fight earlier that evening – and now they would have to find a replacement for him. Behind him, Thor stood, silent. _No doubt realizing our true positions for the first time in his life_, Kol'la thought bitterly, his fists curling and uncurling with barely contained rage. _And of course we both get into trouble because of his short temper, spoiled nature and inability to control his tongue._

"Exon, you appear to have no interest in listening to your Handler, your Liaison," Shax ended, frowning at the two. "No respect, but some care, I hear..." The iron-skinned alien tapped his lip. Pressed a button and called for the Third Madame. "I have an idea which will, I hope, teach you both a lesson. Kol'la, that you may learn to nip things earlier in the bud and use your abilities with due diligence. Exon, that you may better protect the ones who can protect you. Madame," here, the tall alien turned to the stoic woman. "We have a lesson we need taught today. The Vasha'anas, I think, will do."

Kol'la's throat suddenly felt rather dry – and he wet his lips, unconsciously gulping – green eyes wide. But his mouth and chin firmed as the Madame crossed over to Master Shax's private cabinets, opened a thin drawer and carefully withdrew the electro-whip curled up neatly inside. The electro-whip was what Master Shax enjoyed using when needing to make a point. Kol'la's back stiffened even as Thor behind him raised a muted protest. Shax whipped around then and raised an eyebrow at his newest piece of property. Thor fell silent again – practically sulking like a little child.

_The Vasha'anas..._

In a world filled with hollow promises and fleeting illusions, there were no real memories of the people who had once roamed the small, once-green planet. Bands of nomads, the space pirates say, who worshipped the stars and trees and rivers and smoked the blossoms of the purple-speckled white leaves of the Vasha'ana plant. So named after the Goddess of Oblivion, for within its fragrant clouds, one could look, it was said, into the World That Is Not, the World that lies beyond What Is. A mythic place – The World That Is Not and it is ruled, the nomads taught before they disappeared along with the last of their planet's kind, by the Goddess of Oblivion. Some say Vasha'ana is Valhalla, others believe it is pure bliss, others think it is a tale for comfort alone and no less delusional than the ramblings of drug-addled minds in the udji'oo dens. Yet others believe that it is the Ultimate of Nothing – a state of existence that is non-existence. A beautiful paradox.

**[... embrace it...]**

Obeying the clipped instructions of the Third Madame – a hefty Skrull with a sure hand, deft eye and long experience – Kol'la stripped to the waist, mutely placed his palms on the left wall of the Boss's office (expressly left bare for this purpose), legs placed slightly apart. The Madame's fingers drifted along his neck as she adjusted his metallic collar's settings, removing most of his magic abilities, hindering Kol'la's abilities to heal right away.

Now, he was ready. He waited. And braced himself for the pain.

**[... The eventual Nothingness...]**

**[... It is Vasha'anas...]**

**[... some call it the Void...]**

**[... and worship it...]**

Ten lashes, Master Shax said. Ten. Kol'la closed his eyes. Inhaled. Tried to stay relaxed, yet ready for the first cut.

**[... no one can be ready for the first lash...]**

**[... this is the voracious bite of the Visha'anas...]**

The long-whip's crack barely gave him enough time – and the long, rough, cutting woven wires laid the first fierce red weal across his shoulders. Lightly muscled arms nearly buckled as the whip dragged across pale skin, tearing away at muscle and skin..

_One._

The air crackled. The Visha'anas crackled with energy – it vibrated and howled in the atomic spaces – and the electricity ran along the core of the whip, giving the young slave a nasty shock as it cut again – this time only a little below the first lash.

_Two._

_How long will this last?_ Kol'la thought wildly, biting hard on his lip, attempting to keep down any cries attempting to vocalize themselves.

_Three._

He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not break. He would show no fear. He was Jotunn. He was Ulfrbarn. He was Kol'la.

_Four._

Nails scratched on the wall as his back arched a little – a vain, automatic attempt to escape – aborted by fear that Master Shax would add to this –

_Five._

_Ahhhh..._ A whimper rose then. He could feel something trickling down his chin, and his mouth filled with the now familiar taste of iron. _Blood._ Kol'la must have bitten through his lip –

_Six. Seven. Eight._

By the eighth, Kol'la was crying silently, steadily, his breath coming in ragged gasps – but he did not beg. Nor did he squirm, flinch away or fall. Digging his feet in, the young man forced himself to remain upright and moderately conscious. He would not dishonour –

_Nine._

_Oh. By the Norns, by the Eybjarg – the Eybjarg –_ he could see it now. A darkness. An empty, hungry dark place ever haunting his dreams. Nightmares of his childhood and returning to this living dark dream. Would that be what he saw until the end of time – until his death?

**_No. Dear heart..._**

**_Little Lagreinn. We are waiting. Always -_**

_Elska_, Kol'la thought for the first time in many winters. _Elska... Please..._

**[... perhaps, in the end, that is what it is...]**

**[... Visha'anas...]**

**[... it is our loved ones gone before...]**

But the soft voices were so faint. So faint. He was alone. _Perhaps_, a dark part of him mocked the young boy crying the cupboard, _perhaps you were always alone_. Kol'la was alone. There was only him and pain and blinding dark and fire and a far away voice ending the count.

_Ten._

_What was Visha'anas?_

_Perhaps_, he thought dizzily, _it is only what we make it. Or it is everything_ – Mage Opna's cruel smirk, Thyrstr's fists, Boss-man's taunts and Shax's indifference – _everything that is dark in us – and we will never overcome the Void. It will always be there..._

_Join it. Embrace. Accept. You are alone._

**_No, dear heart, not alone. Never alone -_**

Kol'la found himself falling forward, still mute, happily mute – but oh, the pain! Green eyes lifted disoriented and groggy to meet blue and gold and garish red.

_Thor. Exon the Powerful. The Busty Blonde. Muscled Moron._

**_- you are not alone –_**

"No, I am not," he mumbled in rather incoherent agreement to himself. "Unfortunately. You are surrounded by fools. Again."

Kol'la fainted.

-0-0-0-

It was Thor who took him to the Medic room on the seventh floor for a rough patch-up job and then Kol'la's bed for much needed rest. At some point, Kol'la woke thirsty and as dry as a mountain ice-desert – but large, warm hands raised his head and held a cup close by and, with great patience, helped him drink his fill. Kol'la fell asleep again on his side – too drugged to visit his nightmare lands that night.

When he woke the next time, the first thing Kol'la saw was Thor – sprawled in the rickety chair by his bed, snoring. _Snoring as loudly as an aged jarnkottr._ Kol'la glared at the brawny warrior. By slow degrees, Kol'la pried himself upward, choking back sharp cries of pain – managed to edge one leg off the bed to kick Thor hard enough, knocking the sleeping prince off his precarious seat. Thor woke with a rather nasty thud on the floor.

"You snore," Kol'la snarked, trying to find a more comfortable position on his hard bed and failing. "Oaf."

Thor just grinned.

-0-0-0-

"I am truly sorry," Thor finally said much later that day, sometime after supper. He shifted awkwardly in the bent, metal chair – obviously not used to making apologies. "I was not thinking."  
"When do you ever?"

Thor laughed then.

"You sound like my mother."

A pause.

"I miss her."  
"Hm. Well. No use whining about it. Good night," Kol'la grunted, not certain how to answer to Thor's words. He turned awkwardly onto his side, back to Thor and wished the warrior would return to his own bed which was further down the room by the door. Perhaps Thor would take the hint and leave him alone...

No such luck.

"Do you have a mother, Kol'la?"  
"Good. Night. Exon."

The lights were turned off – for which Kol'la was glad. He did not wish Thor to see any trace of the envy he carried within. A mother who scolded him. A father who would obliterate planets for him. That seemed too good to be true. Too good to be true for one such as him, certainly.

_It does not bear thinking on_, the abandoned Jotun told himself, willing his eyes to remain empty of tears. _You are lucky enough to be alive. Be grateful for the time you have been given.  
_

"I am truly, truely sorry, Kol'la. I will attempt to control what I say and not get us into trouble."

Thor still there. Still attempting to make awkward apologies. And Kol'la found that within the flower of annoyance there was a small seed of relief. He was not alone. Against all reason, a supposed-Prince sat by him and reached out a hand time and again. Six days ago, he would not have believed it.

"I know," Kol'la sighed. A pause. Then he added: "This time, consider us even. But do not make a habit of it."

But of course Thor did. They both did.

**[... this is how brothers are born...]**

**[... through adversity...]**

* * *

**Ha! Thor! Idiot man! But he means well - but he's totally not learning his lesson as quickly as he ought! (In relation to Thor maturing.. it's gonna take a LONG while!)**

**Please let me know what you think!**

**-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	26. Day By Day II

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to everyone reviewing! To: Double-Gemini, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, ClaMiAl, DragonsFlame117 and wbss21.**

**So, reading fic again... why can't people get the difference between shudder, shutter and stutter? (sigh)**

**To see a map of the battlehouse - visit: i1354 DOT photobucket DOT com SLASH albums**** SLASH **q695** SLASH **scarecrowslady** SLASH **Fanfiction%20Fanart** SLASH **Battlehouse_zps8f770bb7 DOT jpg 

**OR my tumblr - .com!**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Gladiator stuffs and violence! Warning!  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 26  
Day By Day II

In the light-dark world of Space, approaching Sharda'aa, all you see at first is grey. Streaks of black and white clouds swirl together in an endless slow-moving mass of pollution... and beneath – a grey block of sentient life in concrete and metal and glass and plastic piled up on top of each other, lit with colours and filled with a scented haze. In between, some green still lingers from the Old Days. Hardy trees now potted or protected in small translucent domes. The Battle House of Shax, Franchise Number Fourty-Three (of fifty) was located in the same mega-block as Poison Paradise. This megablock was located in a middling section of the planet's large mega-metropolis located several miles away from the northern pole. As such, it was neither incredibly wealthy nor as poor as the dirt-side ghettos below. An in-between world, perfect within which to hide human contraband.

About eight floors in entirety, the Battle House was a very busy place. The top floor belonged to the "Tough-As-Nails" Shax (his 'Promotional Office') and a couple VIP lounges which overlooked the expansive dance-hall floor below. The second floor, what the clients and audiences saw most, was huge and held many chairs and lounges as well as mega-bars and dance stages. Various stairs – large and small – led downwards to the sizable stadiums below. The largest stadium could seat around three thousand, although most nights the crowd was about two thousand. The smaller battle pits closer to the four corners of the Battle House allowed for audiences of fifteen hundred maximum. A piece.

The Battle House was good business.

Standing before the metallic grill, breathing in the smell of hot sand and oils, the tang of blood, the stink of sweat and bile and piss, Kol'la stared forward jaw set. Beside him, Thor – Exon – shifted eagerly from foot to foot.

_The fool._

Kol'la remembered with sudden clarity the day he had "discussed" with Master Shax and the Five Madames the issue of Thor. It had been two days after his punishment and he had felt light-headed and rather uncertain, but had held his tongue.

"He needs to be blooded," Shax stated bluntly. "That much is clear. Kol'la. Five nights from now, he will battle the Half-Breed and Golan."  
"By himself?" Madame Trab'ba had asked.  
"With Kol'la here. Two on two." Shax had smirked then, bushy eyebrows quirking upward, as he bent to eye Kol'la's carefully blank face.  
"As you wish, Master Shax," Kol'la had replied evenly, inwardly cursing the tall, skeletal, half-Cyborg to the Void and back.  
"Hmmm..." A smile then cracked the ancient alien's face. "You are not pleased?"

Kol'la knew better than to reply to the not-question. He had learned this dance well – had played this game too many times before. So he held his tongue.

"It will teach you something of responsibility..." Shax grinned then. "And, who knows, you may come to enjoy it. Kol'la Silvertongue, I am sure, has some surprises for us all." The man tapped Kol'la's collar. "Magician Suppressor Aga'no will be by today. Make certain to see him."  
"Yes, Master Shax."

**[... always say yes...]**

**[... but inside...]**

**[... inside...]**

So here he was. Far behind them, guards hustled and bustled. Two stood by the door of the cage they had been placed within – hulking Boulder-People with bones the consistency of stone. Faces set in stone. Just as silent. Definitely living up to their names and reputations.

Thor did not speak either.

_Small mercies._

Attempting to speak was futile at any rate – thanks to the head-splitting, mind-numbing, ever-increasing roar of beings who filled the stadiums. It was a busy night, according to the Fourth Madame, and the audience was more than ready to taste blood in the air. Hypnotic bass drums pounded, lights flashed and flared over the empty, tan arena which was surrounded by the steeply rising stadium seats of the smaller Pit Three.

_White light._ Kol'la shivered. _White light. And dark. The Visha'anas._

White light.

It faded and memory returned full force.

He was on the mats, groaning on his back as Thor stood above him, laughing at Kol'las obvious inexperience with the wide blade which had been in his hands and had just now skittered across the floor from a well-timed blow to the slighter slave's wrist.

"Perhaps a spear would suit you better."  
"If I had my magic, any weapon would be merely –"  
"Tricks have no place in battle," Thor looked disapprovingly down at Kol'la who rolled to his feet, suppressing a moan.

At Thor's words, the slighter, leanly muscled slave glared at the man who was attempting to call him 'shieldmate' and 'good fellow' and other meaningless Asgardian nonsense, while at the same time demeaning his abilities.

"Say one more word, Brainless Lout, and you will taste the force of my will with an easily conjured dagger in your back –"  
"Fighting words," the prince grinned back, unrepentant. "Let us see how effectively you can enforce your will – or not."

Kol'la had launched himself then, calling on the magic the Suppressor had allowed him. The two battled through the early evening until both were sore. Thor did not lose – but neither did he win precisely.

-0-0-0-

As the two of them stepped out onto the newly raked sands of the arena, the roar increased if possible – a raucous noise of boos and taunts and curses. As their opposing combatants stepped out, everyone cheered. Kol'la glared sourly at their opponents. Thor and he were not the favourites tonight. _We are facing Death._ He grinned wolfishly then. _Or so they think._

Dark, smooth, metallic walls rose up around them in a large circle – indestructible and daunting. Offering no easy escape, the inner edges along the top were lined with live wire, Kol'la knew. The only way out of the arena was either on one's own two feet or in a coffin. Sometimes mercy was shown – and Kol'la knew that this battle was not intended to be a fight to the death. However, judging by the tense stances of his two opponents, the lithe slave-boy had a feeling that the ever annoying, brash prince-in-disguise had somehow managed to irritate the two fighters.

Kol'la sighed. _Things are never easy..._

The Half-Breed – Toh, the Half-Breed – was an infamous fighter, known for her feral attacks – using claw and tooth and nail to bring down her opponents. Tall and bony, Toh's appearance did not promise much, particular as her skeletal frame appeared to take more after her Ananuki genetics. However, the short black fur which covered her body spoke of Tsatatohalun blood and the small magicks she wielded appeared to be Elven in nature. Pitch black eyes glinted from a bone-white skull-shaped face and a grin widened, baring long canines.

Kol'la winced at Toh's obvious excitement. Shifting from foot to foot, Toh looked energetic – definitely spoiling for a fight. Dressed in a roughly weaved standard one-piece cut high upon her thighs and a bandolier of bone, teeth and beads which slung low across her hip, holding a short dagger, Toh definitely looked ready to win.

Beside her, clad in a simple leather kirtle and armed with a sturdy belt, broad sword and buckler, Toh's usual partner, the Golan, appeared to be more calm – but his dark, beady eyes were a shade more intense than usual. Thor was already sizing up the muscles and Kol'la decided for his own preservation to let the two hulking beasts at it. He would have to be up for the task of dealing with Toh's blood-lust, magicks and cruel morning-star.

Somewhere overhead, the bright voice of one of the Announcers was whipping the crowd up into a frenzy. The starting bell blared – and without any further ado, the Golan and Thor leaped for each other, leaving Kol'la to face off Toh.

-0-0-0-

Thor's sword clashed and rang as it met the Golan's blade time and time again. Bucklers bashed against each other and their forearms bruised with the pull of steel and the pounding of the broad swords. Sweat and blood flew, the sounds of the audience faded to a dull roar.

There was only sand and dust and the tang of metal and blood and the weight of armour and the ring of steel against steel. There was only the brushing of leather against leather as Thor's back met Kol'la's for a few brief seconds. There was only exhilaration, excitement and the song of war which hummed through his veins.

This was what he lived for. This was what he breathed for air. This was the fuel he needed.

This was war.

-0-0-0-

Toh was all cat. Thin muscle, but muscle none the less, athletic flexibility and a wicked sense of humour combined with a sharp tongue. In so many ways, a mirror of Kol'la – a picture of Kol'la many years in the future: experienced, cynical, talented and bitter.

"Well, little Kol'la," she hissed, black eyes glittering and her long tail flicking from side to side. "This is a long way from Poison Paradise now, isn't it?"

He did not reply, but kept his gaze fixed on her entirely – on her eyes, her neck and shoulders, her hips and feet. When she pounced, he raised his own weapon of choice – a long spear – and swept the long chain of the flying mace aside, forcing it off its trajectory as he ducked. Toh's other hand swept out, flinging three fireballs his way. Dodging them easily, Kol'la sent two ice daggers her way, which she evaded, while moving closer into his first ring of defence.

Thickly spiked boots kicked him roughly in the stomach and Kol'la found himself flung rather heavily against the wall of arena. A cry rose – of encouragement for Toh and he hissed back at her, growling with annoyance and dodged a second kick which would have buried his head in the grey metal and stone. One-two, one-two three-four, Kol'la just barely managed to fend off a following volley of blows from Toh's fists – his forearms and feet meeting hers.

From a ways away, he could hear Thor – _Exon_ – yelling his name in concern, but Kol'la did not reply, focusing instead on the warrior before him. Toh had entered the blood frenzy so popular amongst the thrill-seekers above who watched them scrabble for their lives. The young slave cursed them, cursed Toh's heedlessness, cursed Thor – _Exon's – the dou'ma's_ misplaced worry.

_I can take care of myself, thank you_, Kol'la glared, jaw set, eye twitching and fists clenching, ignoring a trickle of blood which ran down his right temple. His return blows, kicks and fire-power increased as anger flared up within him._ I am no babe in the arms – I have survived worse –_ The runtling remembered his battles against the grarulfr upon the white plains of the Utanheim, the combat he had met against his first real foes (_... those hateful Slavers..._) within the now, so distant town of Snjarhamr... and all the training he had been forcefully put through in the barely padded rooms below his feet. _She will regret –_

That was his last thought as his shoulders widened, as he spun with his spear to place several well-placed, powerful kicks along Toh's forearms and stomach. The heavy mace whistled as it passed over his head – Kol'la had bent backwards to avoid it and a following foot. Then he was turning down, round and about to hit her on the side with his own sturdy boots.

This time, she could not miss the well-aimed ice daggers which hit the firm padding on her back – dark purple blood seeped through and Kol'la grinned wolfishly as his opponent whipped about, clearly angered beyond all reason.

Fireballs now sped toward him at an increasing pace – all of which he countered with insouciant grace. Kol'la laughed then – a hard, sharp laugh like glass and he darted forward, allowing his magic to take shape once again, lending him speed – and a clone. Toh did not pause – but stepped forward, her mace already arcing toward his clone's head – and passing through air with no resistance. His trick had worked.

With Toh attempting to shift her stance, Kol'la planted one hand on the ground and ice sprang up along the ground in a straight path toward his opponent. Toh turned in enough time to see it coming – but by then it was too late. The ice, trapping her feet, slowed her down enough for him to catch her by tangling cords of green.

The Half-Breed went down with an 'oof'! And the crowd roared as the Golan sailed overhead the two slighter combatants and thudded into the metal wall beyond them. Thor followed in hot pursuit, and the Golan found himself only to be increasingly buried into the arena's wall (dents spread outward from the green alien's body and Kol'la had to wince) thanks to repeated blows of Thor's fist and then elbow.

The Golan slumped forward and Toh spat and hissed threats as she struggled against the tightening bonds.

"You think you are so brave, Kol'la Silvertongue? That this is the place for you to shine – as you had once thought upon the stage to strut and tease – but there will only be ruin and I will laugh as you are reminded of your place once again -"  
"Remind me now, if you dare, witch," Kol'la drew himself up, testing the strength of his spear within his grip, "but it does not change the truth of the matter. I have bested you and I will do so yet again. Another day. Call forfeit now, Toh."

Toh laughed then and continued to pull at the living green rope, if in vain. "Forfeit to you? On your first time out? I would rather die than surrender to a high-priced whore of a slave like you - a babe in the arts of war."  
"It may be my first time in the Ring," spat back the young fighter, "but that does not mean I cannot win."  
"Drunk already on your own power, little Kol'la?" Toh snarled and cruel words poured out, ably translated for the audience who jeered and roared happily at the ensuing drama. "This crowd which chants for you. For me – one day, they will cheer as I tear you apart... unless I spare you in mercy and give you what you deserve and remind you of where you belong, beneath another with your legs spread, crying mercy – that's what they say you do best – Silverto –"

Kol'la spear shifted, turned – plunged down – pale fingers tightened. Thor's voice broke out in horror as his new-found shieldmate's face tightened and a terrible blankness spread over it. There was an emptiness in those brilliant green eyes – and the spear plunged down and found its mark with surety. The crowd cried out. The Announcers were going wild. Guards spilled in. The Golan, woozily rising to his feet, was bellowing like a wounded n'ch'nka – and the spear plunged down and finding its mark, stilled. Toh's body jerked as the metal pierced her between her breasts through hard leather and even harder bone – the spear plunged down, driven by madness and despair and memory and white skin which hid a darker secret. And behind those green eyes was memory which burned like fire.

Kol'la did not feel anything, not the push and pull of the guards as they forced him to his knees and bound his hands behind his back and then fastened them with a chain to his collar, nor when the Fourth Madame and the Auxiliary Magician Suppressor hurried over to temporarily induce unconsciousness. He did not see them. All he could see was Toh's blank eyes now dull and the spear – the spear in her now still chest.

That was all he saw.

* * *

**Well, there you go. Kol'la is a bit of a vindictive type - but a bit understandable, I think.**

**Let me know what you think!**

**Please review! It's really encouraging and helps me keep pumped about writing! XD**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	27. Rising

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to all who reviewed! Those faithful few! (feels like Henry Vth at Agincourt) **

**To: wbss21 (Loki is BAMF! I hope.), ClaMiAl (we'll see how Thor takes it...), Winter Cicada (welcome!), DragonsFlame117 (Toh was top of her game... and got cocky. heehee), Immortal Sailor Cosmos (yep. life can get difficult...).**

**Winter Cicada: Welcome! It's great to meet readers - and it's nice to hear from people who may not necessarily have an account here at FFNET. I am so glad you are enjoying this AU and the worlds involved and the OCs, such as they are, and Loki. XD I'm so glad and encouraged! Thanks again! -KI**

**And also a great shoutout to everyone who has fav'd this fic or is on alert or fav'd me. Thanks so much - and don't be shy~! I don't bite... much. **

**For those who want to see pictures that I've drawn for this fic (since there don't seem to be any fanartists out there)... visit my profile. There is a picture of Toh (sorta) and the Battlehouse layouts and a few other things. XD Or you can visit my tumblr - kakashidiot. Particularly if you wanna read a cheery Tom Hiddleston & Loki friendship fic. :D**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Angst! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 27  
Rising

Silence.

**[... in the gaps between the pounding bass and whining strains of brass...]**

**[... there it is...]**

He lay there, eyes closed, content to just be and listened to the unfamiliar silence of the room he was now in. No sound. Nothing. An empty silence.

Kol'la shifted uneasily. Stirred. This was not the same after all. _Not the same not the same not the same not the samenot the samenot the same –_ No place could ever be home, be icy, dim wastelands under pale, grey moons, be towering black mountains blanketed in eternal snows, be the edges of existence, be the rim of the worlds, be open to the ebb and flow of the stars' magical tides, be filled with the voices of Realms and the song of Jotunheim's Heimsrsal herself – _be – just be –_

**[... in these gaps...]**

**[... there it is...]**

**[... Nothingness...]**

Kol'la came to his senses in the dark. Darkness was an old friend. It was the Void which haunted his childhood dreams and called to him with deep whispers. It was Nothingness – or it was the hope of peace. It was the medium of all things light and magical and it was the hunger of all things dark and meaningless. It was him.

"Kol'la?"

A voice spoke out into the darkness and then there was light. The small head-lamp jutting out from the wall beside the bed he was lying on flared with an electric hum. Kol'la's eyes flew around the bare room instantly. A bare room with grey walls. _The High-Security Containment facilities then_, he thought tiredly. Ignoring the aches of his body, Kol'la attempted to pry himself upward, only to find that his wrists and neck had been tethered to the bed's side rails. He sank back with a heavy sigh. Turned his head to find Thor – _Exon_, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, _Exon, you dou'ma_ – sitting there beside him.

_Why is he here?_ Kol'la wondered to himself. _Why are you here_, he wanted to ask. _What is it that draws you to my side time and time again?_

Silence.

Then Th – _Exon_ drew breath: "Toh is dead."

A pebble falling into a still pond. The first cracks of a thawing mountain stream. Kol'la did not say anything. Merely grimaced, his pale lips tightening into a hard thin line.

"I did not think it was in you to do such a thing."

_You know nothing –_

Silence.

_You know nothing_, repeated Kol'la coldly in his mind. _You come to this world. You live a short time here and think to know us all when we can barely know ourselves. You place us in the box of your imaginings and expect us to perform – I will. Not. Perform. I will do as I please. As I want. As much as I may with the power that is given to me._

"This was your first time to kill?" Thor asked after another long moment.  
"No," Kol'la sighed and then frowned at the memory of the Slaver smoking with the heat of his fire. An innocent kill, in a way, during more innocent days.  
"Then –"  
"I do not wish to discuss it."

A pause. Thor's big feet shuffled and then the brawny, young warrior heaved a gusty sigh.

"Toh was saying that you –"  
"I. Do. Not. Wish. To. Discuss. It. Exon."  
"But –"  
"Silence!" Kol'la's rose with pitch and intensity as he attempted to hit the oaf and failed, wrists and ankles aching with his sudden thrashing. He fell back panting, eyes wild and promising Thor pain should the young warrior ask again. "I have no wish to speak of it – what part of this do you not understand? Or is your understanding that of a dumb beast? It is none of your business and I have no wish to speak of it!"  
"It is my business!" roared Thor in response. "Particularly when my good friend and shield-mate strikes out so – and is imprisoned for it! You are in trouble, Kol'la. More trouble than before. What if – what if –" Thor faltered then. "Do you remember that time you were beaten for my misdeeds –"  
"Which time was that?" Kol'la rolled his eyes. "There have been so many –"  
"The day Shax had the Third Madame whip you with the Visha'anas – and what if they decide to inflict you with that punishment again – but longer? Thoza said that it drives men mad when –"  
"You can't believe anything that comes out of Thoza's mouth, that oma'auzha. Wait –" Kol'la raised his head again to glare at Thor better. "Why are you even talking to that piece of dirt-side trash anyways?"  
"Well I –"  
"Thor," Kol'la dropped his head back to ease his aching throat. "You will be the death of me – what now?" He had caught a glimpse of delight on the warrior's face.  
"You called me Thor!"  
"A mistake, Exon. A mistake!"  
"You never make mistakes. That is what you told me –"  
"Aha. Aha," Kol'la said dryly. "My first mistake was to let you live –"  
"As if you could bring me down with those little tricks of yours," laughed Thor easily.  
"You always fall for it," Kol'la sniffed, "and you always will."

They spoke no more of Toh, no more of Toh's cutting words and dark promises, no more of their tainted first victory. Instead, the two young slaves talked of weaponry and strategies and armour and the weak spots of the Skrull and Kree – and other lighter things until both were too tired to speak anymore – but Kol'la did not mind. Such banter, mindless as it was, filled up the empty spaces and the gathering dark.

In those precious moments, he felt he could hold it off at bay – the voices and the emptiness – hold the Void off until he discovered how to destroy it. Even if it meant destroying himself.

-0-0-0-

In the end, Kol'la was gifted with ten lashes of the Visha'anas and a short commendation from Master Shax on his abilities within the ring. As punishment and reward, Kol'la found himself on the sand at Thor's side from that time forward. As Shax predicted, Kol'la learned to find some joy in combat, even though it was not his preferred way to spend time. There was a sense of accomplishment to be gained from a good victory – a sense of style, a sense of growth. _It isn't a difficult life_, Kol'la had to own. _It could be worse._

And so, another week passed.

**[... and time however short or quick bound the two...]**

**[... it was Fated perhaps...]**

**[... for all time...]**

Beneath the perpetually grey sky and gaudy lights, beneath the thick stone and metal struts, Kol'la slept and ate and fought. Side by side, the two young warriors found a kind of rhythm between them and striding forward to their doom, Kol'la and Thor wielded whatever the Norns would give them. Halfway through the second week of fighting, the third week of Thor's captivity, the two were in their dormitories nursing their bruises and discussing their next strategy to astound their growing and adoring followers, when Kol'la asked the question that had been haunting him since day one of Thor's arrival.

"You say you are Prince Thor," he said, green eyes darting about to make doubly certain that no other slave was lurking about to catch some gossip or rumour.  
"I am Prince Thor." Indignant. "I told you so already."  
"Yes, yes," Kol'la flapped a hand. "That makes you son of Odin – Odin Allfather, who is perhaps the most powerful being in the galaxy."  
"Of course."  
"So... why isn't he here yet?"

Thor shook his head and glared at his broad, callused, warrior's hands. His leather-clad foot moved forward to nudge at Kol'la's shin annoyingly, teasingly. He glanced up at his fighting partner, blue eyes calculating – and just as he was about to speak, Fandral (now known as Skorax the Fair) and Hogun (renamed as Tuan the Dour) entered the room arguing over the merits of tempered steel, iron and the titanium ore found on Tarnax III. Kol'la's face tightened at the memory of the planet and said nothing when they sat themselves uninvited on either side of Thor on said warrior's bed. Kol'la, seated opposite, glared at the intruders. The two men were far from his favourites, for Kol'la thought that Thor's brashness and overconfidence were bad enough without flap-tongued encouragement from the side-lines in the form of Fandral and passively silent agreement in the form of Hogun.

"What were you speaking of so seriously?" laughed Fandral. "You two look as generals do before an army gives battle. Come, are you planning some adventure?"

_How he keeps his idiotic optimism is beyond me_, Kol'la thought eyes wide with disbelief. _It must have something to do with his low intelligence or maybe they put something in Asgard's water..._

"Kol'la and I were talking of how we came to be at this place – and how that might affect the search for us."  
"Ah," Hogun nodded, calmly. "That is a fair question indeed."  
"It was Muspelheim," Fandral said without further ado.  
"Muspelheim," repeated Kol'la dryly.  
"Muspelheim. You know it? Have you been there?"  
"Slow down, Fandral," Hogun chuckled then.  
"I have heard of it, of course. And read about it," Kol'la frowned, "but I have never been there."  
"It is a hot place," Thor put in then. "A very strange and wild land – and full of fiery creatures who thrive in such an environment. You may not know it - but even now in Asgard few things can provide me much challenge -"  
"That, I somehow can believe," Kol'la mumbled.  
"- and so I travel many places to find the unjust or the beasts with whom I may do battle. For this purpose, I have hunted many beasts and creatures and beings far and wide."  
"You can say that again," sighed Fandral. "I have worn through six boots on the strength of it. Although we have not traveled everywhere."  
"Well," Thor agreed, "not everywhere, but that is my desire: to traverse all Nine Realms and beyond, to show Asgard's might and power and to provide justice for those who deserve my hammer's wrath -"  
"Creatures from Muspelheim, for example," Kol'la interjected here with barely concealed disgust at Thor's unrepentant superiority.  
"Indeed, dark creatures who prey on travelers - and one day, I will deal with Jotunheim -"  
"Oh no," Hogun groaned, rolling his eyes, "here we go."  
"Thor is very focused on Jotunheim," Fandral explained further at Kol'la's confused look. "It is true that we cannot trust them -"  
"But the war is over," Kol'la replied blankly. "A long time ago."  
"Not so long ago, really - and can you really trust a Frost Giant?" Thor laughed heartily. "Indeed not. So when they reveal their true colours, as the savage beasts we know them all to be, I will be waiting. Asgard will be prepared and waiting."

A stark wasteland rose in Kol'la's mind at Thor's words - devastated and empty. The empty Gothahus, the faithless inhabitants driven into empty, mindless fear. The treacherous yet superiour Older Brother... the shadowy, unknown forms of parents who had abandoned him a long time ago. All that he knew of his Father was that the Lord King of Jotunheim was tall, for the statue bearing his father's resemblance had taken damage and the lordly visage of King Laufey had long since crumbled away. Lying, uncaring folk - _but no different_, he thought, _no different than these. And yet, the chasm between the Jotunn and Asgard remains wide and unsurpassable_. Kol'la wondered if he should feel sad.

"Muspelheim, Thor, Muspelheim," Hogun interrupted Thor, shaking his friend out of what was clearly a very strong topic for the Prince.  
"At any rate, I thought it the perfect challenge for the son of Odin –"  
"You would," Kol'la snorted, "since you consistently fail to think things through."  
"Thor knows what he is doing," Fandral said, defensively.  
"Not all the time," Hogun disagreed. "Remember Helheim –"  
"That was hardly –"  
"Helheim was interesting," grimaced Thor. "Father and Mother did not agree, however –"  
"You attacked Helheim?" Kol'la asked, stunned – and also disturbed that he could still be surprised by new discoveries of Thor's various levels of stupidity. "Are they not – well – not allies, surely, but neutral citizens of the Nine Realms?"  
"It is an army of the undead!" Thor protested, obviously still not wholly repentant about the matter. "Perfect for practice."  
"Thor," hissed Kol'la, "The Army of the Undead are not mere snakes to poke at and enjoy for a short time – it is their duty to protect the borderlands of Death's Kingdom and as such, your little... jaunt... may have caused damage and –"  
"He seems to be getting quite worked up over this," Fandral said in awe, noticing how Kol'la's shoulders were already tense. "Your Mother would love him. Let us hope they never meet lest they collude and attempt to hold us back from –"  
"Well, that is because as a seithr user, he has less a spirit of adventure and of the warrior and no doubt would be happier occupied with the interests of old men – OW!" Thor broke off as the hard tread of Kol'la's boot met his shin.  
"That is a lie – my magicks and workings have saved our lives time and again in the Rings," Kol'la said fiercely. "An idiotic 'auzha such as you would never understand –"  
"Yes, yes," Fandral flapped a hand as Thor nursed his shin petulantly.  
"And as for Helheim, what souls could have escaped the borders and returned to their homes in a vain attempt to see the ones they loved again?" Kol'la shook his head. "Attacking Helheim? That is a new kind of stupidity, even for you."  
"It was stupid," agreed Hogun quietly. "We should not have been there. But at any rate, the Prince and we, as the Warriors Three –"  
"And Sif, don't forget her," added Thor.  
"And Sif," Hogun sighed, "we have a habit of seeking out quests. As you may have heard."  
"Yes," Kol'la said sourly. "The Realms and all that lie beyond sing in praise of it. Foolishness."  
"Come now –"  
"Be quiet, Fandral," Hogun glared at his blonde friend. "With Volstagg and Sif, we three journeyed to Muspelheim to make battle with such things as the fire drake and lava serpents. It was a quiet part of Muspelheim that we landed upon – with the aid of a Court Mage's apprentice – and no inhabitant was in sight, but just as we were on the trail of a fire drake, we came upon some strange beings –"  
"Ugly as Helheim."  
"Come now –"  
"I had heard of them before," Hogun continued, ignoring Fandral and Thor's interjections. "Slavers, we call them – and we attempted to do battle – for the fire drake of course. Yet, in the end, the fire drake scorched Lady Sif and Volstagg took her off and we three fell to the Slavers' might. Therefore, it may depend on how quickly Volstagg may find aid for Sif and how quickly they may find a means of returning home - if Heimdall hasn't already noticed what had happened... Kyrr, you know - Mage Flarathir's apprentice who hid our presence from Heimdall and opened the pathway to Muspelheim, is a cautious man and would most likely alert the Guard if we were too long gone. Otherwise, alarm may not be raised for some time. From now on, I think Asgard will treat the Slavers' might with -"  
"Might?" Thor scoffed. "It was those strange weapons they held in their hands –"  
"Superior technology," sniffed Kol'la, "and superior intelligence. Those can be a form of might as well, Muscled Moron. They capture great creatures all the time – picking up a few youths of Asgard would be no challenge to them –"  
"I AM PRINCE –"

Kol'la snorted. Thor lunged forward and there was a breathless moment as the four of them tussled – and accidentally broke some other fighter's bed, which was when things became a little less unfriendly and Kol'la only just barely managed to wriggle out from the Asgardian pile on top of him. Only to turn about and poke at Thor's lower back with mischievous glee. More fighting ensued and after fifteen more minutes, resulting in several bruises and a cracked rib on the part of Fandral, they lay back, panting and Kol'la said impudently:

"Well, then, Prince Thor, the matter is clear then. Your father no doubt had thought you would return and when you did not, he will search for you –"  
"Heimdall has no doubt found us," Thor said, "then Father will muster the men and wage war on this planet."  
"So, he will arrive soon."  
"Yes," Thor glanced at Kol'la, "I should think so." A pause. "You are worried."  
"What if he does not come?"  
"He will," was the prompt reply.  
"But... what if he does not come?"  
"But he will," Thor repeated blankly.  
"Of course he will," Fandral agreed easily, poking at his sore rib with a quiet grunt.

Hogun said nothing, glancing at Kol'la's hard mouth and cold green eye speculatively. Kol'la refused to meet the quiet warrior's perceptive eyes and kept his focus on Thor who stared back at him in bewilderment from his seat on the rough floor. Fandral was laughing now at Kol'la's stupidity, but eventually his lone laughter petered off as he realized that Kol'la was entirely serious.

"He will come," Thor repeated softly.  
"We shall see," Kol'la sighed, rising then and stretching, enjoying the crack of bone and tight stretch of muscle. _Ah. Yes._ "We shall see."  
"I don't understand," Kol'la could hear the puzzled quality of Thor's voice as he left the room.  
"No, you wouldn't," Hogun agreed. "You wouldn't."

**[... but the day came when...]**

**[... the skies filled with pure, crackling light...]**

So distant and yet so close, destruction reigns. Every moment, there can be seen the endless circle of birth and life which is this endless cosmos - and Frei'thovee of the Empire of the MahKo'nai found itself once again caught up in eternal dance. Bathed in fire and blood, the planet lay smoking and silent as its warriors lay thickly upon the ground, mourned by the women folk and children. The survivors, the weak, the civilians and those who had surrendered, easily paid the price for their lives with the information which the Aesir sought.

The destination of the_ Nu'Mahvee'sako_ captained by Thoko and his dare-devil crew. _Nu'Mahvee'sako_ which had borne Lei'satho, Lei'safrei, and Lei'sa'a of the Nu-Run to Sharda'aa.

**[... on Sharda'aa, the Planet of Pleasures, Den of Vice and Counterfeit Gold...]**

**[... when they came to the Shamarxes System...]**

**[... when Asgard descended...]**

* * *

**Be sure to chat and leave a review! I love hanging with my readers! **

**Author's Note: There is a sense in the films and other 'verses that Loki lives and operates very much "under wraps". That is a horse term to say that Loki often fakes failure for other reasons. He pulls his punches physically and metaphorically when it comes to Thor – until he is pushed to the very end. I feel like this Loki, unhindered by filial love, would not be so socially incumbent to pay respect to Thor and as a result can spew his full ire upon Thor.**

**Update in five days or so. **  
**-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	28. Gathering Light I

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to my awesome reviewers! To: DragonsFlame117, Winter Cicada, ClaMiAl, wbss21, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, Ellie. Thanks you guys! You rock!**

**Winter Cicada: Yes! Hurrah for foreshadowing and setup! A much needed dialogue... yeah... ****Ellie: Welcome! I'm so glad you are enjoying this fic! Thanks a ton for the shoutout!**

**SO WHO WATCHED TOM HIDDLESTON AT HALL H? I YOUTUBED IT TO DEATH! DEATH! AND MY OVARIES DIED! AND MY BRAINS! **

**AND HOW CAN I WRITE, MR. HIDDLESTON, WHEN YOU DISTRACT ME SO? ****You and your face and your deep commanding voice and your gorgeousness... (sigh)**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Angst! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 28  
Gathering Light I

**[... Where is magic found –]**

**[... but here...]**

_Magic is everywhere. It is in the multitudinous voices of the wind. It is in the chatter of water. It is in the rumble of earth – and the crackle of fire. It is the flashes of lightning and the song of thunder. It is in the roar of a thousand burning suns. It is everything. It is everywhere._

_It is Us._

That is what the Mages averred time and again, speaking the Rites to the youths of Jotunheim who could never understand the Truth of Tradition. One day, the younglings would be the future Mages of Jotunheim, but their Office, like the Aldinn Stathr, was empty – and meaningless. Motion without meaning.

However, the magic was still there – faint to the senses and growing fainter still since the removal of the Out-Pouring, the Gap Between What Is and What Is Not, the Kero Fornvetr, the Casket of Ancient Winters. And now – and now – weaker and growing more so by the century, the spirit of Jotunheim struggled on. Heimsrsal was there, but no one could hear her voice for the Sithr Efingi had been stolen away. A double-blow, an unknown double-blow, to Jotunheim.

Yet, Magic is everywhere. What Is and What Is Not – these make up what is seen and what is not seen and all the spaces in between. Even far away on the desolate planet of Sharda'aa, there was a thread easily tapped into, for no place part of the cosmos and What Is can ever be separated from What Is Not.

On Sharda'aa, there is no honour, no respect given to the Powers That Be. It is a matter of utility and ability, stringently calculated into varying levels as science continued (continues) to attempt full understanding of the Unknowable. A crass attempt, but understandable considering what dangers the cosmos held.

**[... and they are many indeed...]**

These sorcerers, these would-be magicians dabbled in the lower levels. Within their own rating system, they could only achieve Eno'vee or Eno'yul – and above them, ensconced within their blessed Realm, the Mages of Asgard worked at Eno'ko. Beyond (Eno'ah), the elves stood with Odin Allfather.

Kol'la, the Jotun-in-disguise, the fighting and entertainment slave, knew what his limits were. They had been beaten into him at the hands of the Boss-man and later Shax's Enforcers. From his lofty height of Prince and Warrior Extraordinaire, Thor let Kol'la know how weak he stood and the hopelessness of his situation. _As if I need reminding_, the young man thought sourly. Even now, after another bloody battle within the third week of Thor's captivity, Kol'la's abilities were once again reassessed.

_Even if I were to be freed_, he thought, watching the Magician Suppressor Aga'no tote up the requisite calculations, nodding and shaking his dark-blue-purple head and scratching the bizarre white fur which grew off the tip of his ears and in tufts above his eyes. The Third Madam's eyes were also narrowed. _Even if I were to be freed, would I have the power to fend for myself on this world?_

"His power grows," Aga'no muttered. "Daily. The boy is a natural –"  
"And that is why Shax keeps him, despite his effeminate ways and sharp tongue," the Third Madame cut him off, eyeing the dark-haired slave suspiciously.  
"It will take longer, at any rate," Aga'no clucked, "this time around. Bleed some of it off – good thing I brought the Atraxia crystals with me today."

Kol'la glared at the two mutinously._ Talking as if I am not there_, he bit down on the vitriol which threatened to spill from his lips. _As if I were... nothing._ When the pudgy Mage finished setting the crystals into their various slots in a square machine at one end of the table, the Third Madame pressed Kol'la's head down onto the table, the better for Aga'no to attach long lines and wires to the box at the opposite end. For a few minutes, he tinkered with the settings and Kol'la squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for the usual uncomfortable feelings of pressure which resulted from increased restriction of his magic. _As I were stuffed and inflated_, he thought wryly. _Unable to breathe... but not as bad as the opposite._

Releasing restrictions was a delicate process and much more painful. There was fire. Burning in the veins, and in unfortunate cases unable to channel the excess built-up energy elsewhere – explosion. Bursting at the seams, the joyous, wonderful light within could tear you apart on the most basic, fundamental level. More powerful mage's self-immolating in this way had taken out entire mega-blocks and small moons, leaving only shadows of those too close to the blast zone.

Fifteen minutes passed but Kol'la said nothing, ignoring the uncomfortable shooting pains racing up his spine from his unnatural low bow. And then it was done – and he felt more lethargic than usual, which was not surprising judging by the healthy glow of Aga'no's Atraxia crystals. _The tight feeling isn't so bad this time_, Kol'la sighed, keeping his eyes down and away from the stones which held his power. His. Power. _Mine. Stolen like everything else._

**[... this is the way of blasphemy...]**

**[... this is the hunger of those who carry in the Void in their hearts...]**

That night, Kol'la was less inclined to speak. It was obvious now, to him, what he needed to do in order to uphold his bargain with Thor. _To get rid of the collar_, he thought, _I will need a boost. Aga'no is easily Eno'yul. And if his calculations are right, then I am merely a level below him – uncollared. I will need to rise two levels temporarily then, if I am to break free of these bonds set by him._

Kol'la sighed. _But to gather that much power is impossible._ He steered his mind away from a mental picture of what a devastated mega-block would look like. Steered his mind away to the glorious row of glowing, sparkling stones. Atraxia crystals – not unlike the Healing Stones of Jotunheim, except that these crystals lasted longer, being used for storage and not just for healing or concentration.

_If I could place the stones in my staff disguised as decorative jewels, then I would be able to store my energy over time. Channel the power to them. In a matter of days, I will have the requisite amount needed. And then it is a matter of waiting._

_There is the matter of gaining the stones..._ Kol'la fell asleep considering the matter.

**[... as the old saying goes...]**

**[... where the water flows, a path is carved...]**

**[... the will makes all things possible...]**

Over the following days, Kol'la made discreet inquiries and discovered that as the rumours had promised, one of the regular cooks in the slave-fighter canteen was open for negotiations. What Kol'la needed was very particular – and the cook shook his head slowly as he read through Kol'la's specifications.

"I can't get this kind of thing..." he murmured. "Not my level of clearance... but..." The Skrull paused in thought. "I do know someone who might know someone. Let me ask about."

In the end, the other 'someone' did indeed know 'someone' who would cut the crystals – for a price: Kol'la's services. Over the period of the third week of Thor's "stay", Kol'la be-spelled armour and potions, created time-lapse attack spells encased in various objects, and paid for the crystals with other similar, magic-related services.

During the fourth week, news came that his order was ready for delivery – and would be brought by an innocuous dancer from his old workplace.

"A friend visiting a friend," the cook said, "much easier achieved than me attempting to slip you something during mid-day meal."

He winked at Kol'la who rolled his eyes and nodded, mildly annoyed. "Whatever you think best. When will it get here?"

"Tonight – maybe. Hallway Ko'ah. You know the one. My friend will be at the far end."  
"And this... courier. How much will they demand in payment for their services?"  
"Depends," the cook laughed then. "Payment may not as difficult as you fear, fiery one."

Kol'la scowled at the cook's laughter and mysterious words. The last thing he needed right now was a contest in riddles.

"Now, now, I must go," the Skrull cook flicked a long tongue at Kol'la. "Be patient, Silvertongue. It will come in time."  
"Time is something I am short on," Kol'la bit out – and swept off, knowing that the Skrull was enjoying his discomfiture.

-0-0-0-

Later on that evening, Kol'la wandered down Hallway Ko'ah, forcing himself to keep a calm pace at the sight of a vague figure not easily seen in the flickering, dim lights of the lower hall. It was rarely frequented and therefore the favoured spot for such illegal transactions as this. And in the small storage rooms along the far end, perfect spots for slaking one's passions. Or so they said. If you believed the staff's gossip.

Beyond two shelving units, he stopped and eyed the being before him, wondering for a split-second if there had been some mix-up.

She was not very short, but not as tall as he. Her green skin, obviously illusory purple-black hair and wide, glittering eyes pronounced her Skrull. A short skirt and tight top – all in shades of purple and black – revealed her background easily enough: dancer. There was the swaying grace and the collar of an indentured servant hung about her slender neck. Gaudy accessories – a thick silver necklace falling over a plenteous swell of breast, several thick bangles on her wrists and ankles plus a heavily studded belt, spoke of a fair attempt at high fashion. Perhaps, in the end, it was her confidence which spoke volumes. Confidence and a wide smile which spoke of good-will and a modicum of hard-earned happiness.

Contentment. Green eyes widened as they met dark ones. Widened in recognition, for there was no doubting that he knew her. Had known her well – as a friend, some might have said, so long ago. _It feels so long ago_, Kol'la thought dazedly.

"Kol'la! It is you!" She said, eyes lighting up.

He did not move as she moved forward to draw him into a hug before pulling back to look him up and down.

"Don't tell me that you have forgotten already!"  
"Of course not," he replied automatically. "I am just... surprised."  
"Now, why is that?" She pouted. "I follow your exploits, you know. We all do. Boss-man is very pleased. You proved him right after all."  
"Indeed?" A pause then he smiled. "I am sure he is, Glo-Glo."

Glo-Glo. Dancing girl Number 371 of the zGa Run.

Kol'la smiled.

* * *

**I apologize for the length. I'll update sooner! I promise!**

**Review! It's a great encouragement and helps keep me focussed! (bats eyelashes)**

**Be sure to chat and let me know what you thot of smexy Hiddlesloki at Hall H!**

**Ja~!KI  
**

Information on Levels of Mage/Magical Abilities

Level 1 – Eno'sa  
Level 2 – Eno'tho – Thanos  
Level 3 – Eno'frei  
Level 4 – Eno'ah – Elven Mages/Odin  
Level 5 – Eno'ko – Asgard/Jotun/Any Other Healthy Realm Mage  
Level 6 – Eno'yul – Sharda'aa/Regular Mage  
Level 7 – Eno'vee – Uncollared Kol'la  
Level 8 – Eno'mah – Collared Kol'la  
Level 9 – Eno'lei  
Level 10 – Eno'sanai

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	29. Gathering Light II

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Well, I apologize for the short chapter last time. I hope I can make up for it with a bit of a doozy chapter this time around! Thanks to all who are reviewing and faving and alerting! Particularly a heartfelt thanks to my reviewers who are so awesome and let me know that people want to see more of this and that this isn't a waste of precious lifetime hours!**

**To: Ellie, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, Winter Cicada (wow! you joined!), ClaMiAl, Double-Gemini, DragonsFlame117 and wbss21 - THANKS A TON FOR CHATTING!**

**Ellie: Odin and Kol'la... hm... yes... **

**Winter Cicada: I can't reply to your awesome review since your private messaging is disabled. But thanks for your comments! I'm so glad you joined FF! I really think Jotunheim must not be forgotten, because eventually we will return there. Heehee. And of course, onward goes the story!**

**And of course, having awesome San Diego Comic Con stuff to see... Nerd HQ and all that... that was amazing! Tumblr is all gaga about it... and I love it.**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Angst! Warning! A SORT OF SEX SCENE! OH MY! Warning!  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 29  
Gathering Light II

"It has been a while since we have been able to speak properly," she said drawing closer as his posture relaxed a little.

_Glo-Glo had always been perceptive_, he thought. A small hand rose to trail its way up his arm to rest on a strong, yet delicate collarbone.

"You have grown."

Kol'la didn't back away, but for a moment, he did not respond. His back stiffened a little again in response to her words and touch, feet placed apart in a strong stance. Kol'la looked down at the woman he had never thought to see again and considered her words. He guessed now, what kind of price he would have to pay. Suppressing his immediate response of amused and slightly mocking laughter (_really, their vanity is so predictable and easy to manipulate_) – then paused as he considered what he had been initially expecting.

Glo-Glo was a gift – and her unspoken request did not seem such a burden. _No. And yet... and yet..._

_You have grown..._

"I have." It wasn't quite a question, yet not quite a statement.  
"Mmm... you are taller for certain."

He huffed then lightly – a short brief laugh and glanced down, noticing that the lithe dancer was right. Now a good head and a half taller than Glo-glo, Kol'la was able to enjoy the line of muscle that ran down her neck to her shoulders and plentiful bosom._ A generous woman_, he thought lazily,_ stupid but good-natured and able to see the bright side of life..._

"Yes, I suppose I have gained some height," Kol'la agreed mildly. "I am more... mature now, I should think –"  
"Ahhhh..." Glo-Glo swayed forward, allowing her weight to rest slightly on him, and her fingers rose to trace his lean muscles up to a well-chiseled jaw. "Very mature, Kol'la." At the slight pressure of painted blue nails, Kol'la's head turned downward and his lips brushed suddenly across the top of her nose. Teasingly. She shuddered at the soft touch. "And I think... there can only be good improvements, knowing you."  
"Thank you."

Kol'la's reply was muffled a little as her nose slid along the side of his cheek, cool skin against cool, and her lips met his briefly. Plucked eyebrows over painted eyelids. Eyelids bedecked with small, stick-on jewels and light yellow pencilling, hiding her luminous eyes in ecstasy.

There was nothing but silence at the end of the long, dim hallway – but not true silence. Not empty silence. There was the hum of ancient lighting, the distant clatter of a cleaner's broom and a not-so-distant creak of an occupied bed down the way. There was the rustle of light fabrics moving against his heavier leathers and rough cotton. There was the sound of breath and a stifled moan. There was the slight hiss as his lips trailed across hers again briefly.

The tall young man pulled away then and for a moment, he blinked and then looked down, noticing how different Glo-Glo looked. Her rapid breath caused the tender swell of breasts to rise up and down rather erratically. A long dark tongue ran over reddened, swollen lips and the natural yellow of her eyes were nearly swallowed by the black of her pupils. Kol'la smiled then – a quick smile (_what would you think of me now?_). _To whom was that thought sent_, he wondered. He did not know.

"I used to think of you as oto'oa," he admitted, drawing her hand down in his, watching how she held on fiercely, her smaller fingers twining around his longer, thinner ones. "As a big sister –"

Glo-Glo laughed then.

"You were a small boy," she said. "This is different – because we are different. Because we can change. Kol'la," she smiled at him gently. "People can always change – and is that not a beautiful thing?"

He raised his bent head and quirked an eyebrow up at her, giving her the patent 'I'm-a-poor-cute-confused-lil'-boy' look which he had long since perfected for moments such as these. Glo-Glo even laughed more and kissed him on the nose.

Kol'la blushed, nodded and then he said, eyes suddenly sharp, "You brought it with you?"  
"Ah, suddenly the businessman, Kol'la," Glo-Glo shook her head. "Well, I deserved it – letting you sucker me in like that. Here it is." The dancer pulled her side-satchel around and unbuckled it, unzipped an inner pocket and then a second pocket inside that one before carefully easing out a velvet bag. It filled the palm of her hand quite easily and she allowed him to take it. "As you ordered. Troaz made it just as you specified – and the payment you sent was adequate."

Deftly, Kol'la opened the black, velvety bag, revealing the stone, cut as he had ordered – glowing green eerily in the dim lighting, flashing an inner power – ready to accept his. _If all goes well_, he reminded himself. _This is a first time. But then_, he added philosophically, _there is a first time for everything_. There were four other smaller stones as well. All of them well-cut and varying shades of green and blue-green.

"You are pleased?"  
"Very," he replied, carefully slipping the smaller stones inside to nestle with the large one inside.  
"I am glad."  
"Now there is the question of what you wish for your help in this matter."

Kol'la pocketed the stones away in his own side-satchel and looked back down at Glo-Glo, who smiled up at him again. She had always smiled for him, he remembered suddenly. _Glo-Glo had been the kindest. Why?_ He did not know. Perhaps, he would never know. She rose up on her tip-toes and tugging at his neck a little, drew him in for another kiss. Or perhaps he did know... either way, it did not make sense.

_These matters never did have much to do with sense, however_, Kol'la reminded himself and shivered. Memories rose at her tender kiss and when her hands roamed over his shirt and down to his waist, Kol'la couldn't help but think of a mage's wandering hands, the thoughtless groping of drunk customers and those last few terrible weeks in the dark chained to a bed.

This thing – this gentle thing – this soft thing – Kol'la did not understand, but he would do his best. He pulled her to a small adjoining room which branched off the hallway. This was the usual place for secretive liaisons. A cleaning supplies closet complete with an appropriate pull-down bed for any workers exhausted from mucking blood in the infirmary or shat in the bathrooms. It would suffice.

In the half-dark, the room barely lit by a small wall-light, the two tugged off each others' clothing and found their way to the bed, caught in a small frenzy of touching and kissing. There was a fire within Glo-Glo and Kol'la began to catch it as well – the flame within his belly burning brighter with each passing second, with each bestowed touch and kiss – it was so hot and heady – and when he came up for air, the slender slave-boy (_man, he was a man now_) discovered that he had somehow manoeuvred himself on top of her. _The natural way of things_, he supposed, and for a moment, he considered her as he lay there, braced on his elbows and forearms. Her face was now glowing and slightly greener with the infusion of blood. Her lips were bussed and a little slick – and Kol'la wondered what she saw.

Glo-Glo drew back a little and watched him in return. Green fingers rose to run through his shorter, black hair and then to his shoulders now bunching with developed muscle – and then his lean biceps and forearms.

"Kol'la..." Her flatter nose crinkled a little.  
"Hm."  
"This isn't..." A pause, then she kissed his chin quickly before the experienced dancer pressed on. "This isn't your... first time, is it?"

Kol'la laughed then, a short, hard, bitter thing. A cutting thing. _So old._ He was so old – that is what he thought some days. _So, so tired and old._

"No," he finally said. "Boss-man had thought to –"  
"That is one way," Glo-Glo's finger pressed on Kol'la's lips gently, silencing him. "I speak of another."  
"You mean the art of making love, then." Kol'la frowned. "Glo-Glo, I can create many things but this is –"  
"We are not in love," she hastened to assure him, "but that does not mean there is no care... or – or joy. To delight in each other, that is the measure. Do you understand?"  
"It's – I have experienced many things and I – I know... how it is done... seen it and I, know the basic rules, er, mechanics," Kol'la mumbled a little incoherently, feeling more inadequate than usual. "What if I cannot –" He could not meet her eyes. "I fear you have chosen the wrong... partner and will receive poor repayment –"

It was difficult to admit. She did not laugh and it helped. Gentle hands soothed tense back muscles as Glo-Glo's eyes caught his again in reassurance.

"No, Kol'la," she kissed him then on lips and cocked her head as if considering him. The light in her eyes was warm as if she had found some kind of treasure within the fineness of his pale flesh – as if she sensed the hidden power beneath. "No, cho'ai." A whisper in his ear and her long tongue darted out to run along the edge of a thin lobe, enjoying the catch of breath in response and the quivering of muscles underneath her palms. "It is my... delight... and honour."

And she drew him down.

**[... here...]**

**[... another kind of magic is born...]**

At some point, Kol'la began to gain an inkling of what Glo-Glo had meant. It was a different kind of energy and nothing like the fire and power of magic running through his veins. _Not the same at all_, he thought wildly at one point. At a soft murmur of instruction, Kol'la lowered his lips and discovered yet another new thing – happiness in the expression of another's rapture.

He would never forget this. _Never forget..._

**[... birthed not out of the fires of a thousand suns...]**

**[... but the flames of two hearts meeting...]**

They said nothing for a long time afterwards. Soft breath and a long embrace was all the communion they needed. At some point, the two fell asleep.

-0-0-0-

After Glo-Glo left out the back staff door, thanks to a smiling, winking cook who poked Kol'la and insinuated a variety of things (much to Kol'la's disgust), the young slave darted up to the dorm and slipped in silently. Stashing his treasure underneath his pillow, Kol'la laid down and stared up into the darkness, unable to see the ceiling, unable to see anything really. For a moment, all he could see was Glo-Glo's flushed face and glittering eyes. The warmth of Glo-Glo's arms about him.

Snorting in disgust, the Jotun-in-disguise rolled onto his side and tried to wrestle his thoughts back into submission. He pondered the Atraxia crystals behind his head and how he would fit them into his preferred weapon of choice – the spear. Kol'la considered the shape and size and then, after a moment, he took out the largest stone and channelled some magic into it as an experiment. It was easier done than he had thought - and his collar did not raise any kind of warning. As he had expected.

When the waking alarm bell rang, Kol'la was ready. The crystals were stashed in his side-satchel which he toted with him all day most of the time – the only secure location for them at the moment. Ignoring Thor and the others' jibes and guesses as to why he had risked punishment (something Kol'la rarely did without much forethought) and crept out after curfew, the magic user instead focused on getting to his spear and setting up the modifications as necessary.

He had much work to do.

**[... they were coming...]**

**[... feel it...]**

"Kol'la."

It was Master Shax. Kol'la stopped obediently and looked at Shax's chin – the safest place to stare without looking cowed. Watching the alien's slit mouth move, Kol'la imagined blowing the wealthy owner's head off with a particularly vicious blast of magic, or watching it flattening beneath the legendary Mjolnir. The mental exercise helped Kol'la keep his temper even as he listened to the rest of his master's words.

"I noticed you weren't in your bed last night."  
"Ah –"  
"No need to deny it - Hawa'o double-checked. Hm. Well, frankly, 'it's about time' is what I thought, initially," Master Shax cuffed his slave not unkindly. "I was beginning to wonder."

Kol'la did not reply.

"Was she worth it?"

_Cool skin, supple flesh, amazing flexibility and the experience of many decades. A kind heart, a contented spirit, a generous soul._ Kol'la had no desire to speak of such things to a man with a heart of coinage.

"Yes, sir." Kol'la replied dutifully, allowing himself to blush a little.  
"Hm, well, just make certain it doesn't become something more – you know, what I am talking about. Regulation and all."  
"Yes, sir."

_No romance._ Kol'la had told her that he was not able to make love, and that was still true in a way. For the first time, he felt regret, felt a hole where something was missing.

"Although, if it does become something regular, let me know who it is," grunted Shax. "I am sure your offspring would be inherit some of your better qualities as well."

Kol'la's skin crawled. A sudden urge to vomit overwhelmed him, but he merely nodded and, being released from Shax with a peremptory wave of the hand, the young Jotun moved onward to the training room. However, suddenly he had no stomach for working magic.

_... your offspring, Shax had said..._

_As if I would inflict this life on another being._ Kol'la vowed to himself, remembering Mayultha. _Never._ Then he paused and remembered the cruel words of the Jotunn youth from long ago.

_... they are deformed? That they are even unable to bear children...  
... The last thing Jotunheim needs is some kind of weakling breed leeching from its soil...  
... Have you seen the others with child? The size of a Jotun babe would split its body in two...  
... Forget the act of getting with child..._

Kol'la paused, leaned back against another grey wall and stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget the memory – but it would not stop replaying in his mind. _They had never believed that I would be able to sire children_, he thought. _I may never be able to sire children._

_It does not matter_, he told himself._ It does not matter it does not matter it does not matter..._

Later on that evening in the training gym, when Thor and Fandral teased Kol'la about the rumoured girl he had spent the night with, Kol'la snapped back, said a few choice words and got himself well beaten for it. As Thor trounced him on the mats, ending up with sitting on Kol'la's chest until he cried 'forfeit', the only thing the young Jotun could think of was the family he would never have, the children he would never hold. Not unless he was willing to inflict his runt-ish life on another Jotun babe, _and should they be half-breeds -_

- Toh's dark eyes -

- the spear descended -

_And should they be half-breeds_, he thought, _what kind of monsters would they become then? Something savage as my people are considered or feral and deranged as Toh?_ Kol'la felt the weight ease off his chest and Thor was calling his name as if from far away, concern now lacing his usual booming voice.

_... your offspring would inherit some of your better qualities as well, Shax had said..._

He would never know.

* * *

**Wow. Sudden sex scene and sudden angst... Depressing. On the other hand, plot is moving along! Odin is on his way, we know, and it seems like Loki and Thor will be ready for when he comes. When he comes.  
**

**I'm going on a trip, kinda business trip, for about 5 days, so my next update will be around this time next week. Or so. Maybe next Wednesday. I will be updating them a longer intervals since the school year will be starting up again. Once a week - and if I write a short chapter, twice. **

**Thanks a ton for tuning in!  
Please review and let me know what you think!-KI  
**

Information on Levels of Mage/Magical Abilities

Level 1 – Eno'sa (highest)  
Level 2 – Eno'tho – Thanos  
Level 3 – Eno'frei  
Level 4 – Eno'ah – Elven Mages/Odin  
Level 5 – Eno'ko – Asgard/Jotun/Any Other Healthy Realm Mage  
Level 6 – Eno'yul – Sharda'aa/Regular Mage  
Level 7 – Eno'vee – Uncollared Kol'la  
Level 8 – Eno'mah – Collared Kol'la  
Level 9 – Eno'lei  
Level 10 – Eno'sanai (lowest)

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	30. Sun's Ascension I

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Back from my trip! I went to an anime convention in Malaysia! It just happened to be running and I was able to drift and take pictures! It was soooo awesome!** **I love cosplay.**

**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers! You are the awesome - Double-Gemini, Ellie, ClaMiAl, DragonsFlame117, wbss21, Winter Cicada! You guys have mentioned some interesting things and be sure to check out author's notes at the end where I'll discuss some things that came up over the last couple of chapters or so. XD**

**Ellie: Thanks a lot!**

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Angst! Warning! OH MY! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 30  
Sun's Ascension I

**[... are you ready?]**

**[... the drums of war are beating...]**

There was no warning: no omens to be read for the fate of Sharda'aa, the Planet of Pleasures, Den of Vice and Counterfeit Gold, no klaxons to be heard, no bell to be rung, no premonition to rouse them from the illusions of their world.

**[... they will never wake...]**

One minute, the perpetually grey-black skies of Sharda'aa showed the usual long traffic lines of hover-cars and shuttles. Above in the higher stratospheres, smaller spaceships zoomed about and beyond, hanging in closer orbit, the eternal debris of space garbage, larger space-cruisers and freighters. Further out, three pale moons hung – on most nights unseen by those below, unless the eternal smog thinned a little – and lesser man-made satellites with high-powered signalling stations for the holocam broadcasts.

One minute – business as usual.

**[... the skies of Sharda'aa are filled with ships and waste and rock and metallic moons...]**

**[... the skies of Sharda'aa are filled with Nothing...]**

**[... and empty winds without a Voice whistle through the crevices of brick and stone and metal and glass...]**

The next minute, there was the roar of a thousand waterfalls, the crackle of millions of volts, the cry of countless voices – it was the Bifrost, ripping its brilliant multi-coloured path through time and space. Ripping through the atmosphere of Sharda'aa. It hit the surface of a megablock's roof in the northern quadrant of the planet with reverberating pressure. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared, leaving behind it an increased wind, whipped up clouds and two large companies of Aesir. Fifty tall, muscular, clear-skinned, bright eyed warriors.

**[... they came...]**

No sooner had the Bifrost disappeared, several security alarms began to ring loudly, but it was too late. Already the surge had begun again with greater winds rising and the clouds gathering as the Bifrost disturbed the planet's atmosphere a second time, releasing another two companies of warriors further down the megablock's flat roof-top.

**[... without warning...]**

Sirens wailed and alarms rang out. Security details and various warriors poured out of the surrounding buildings, hopping onto their hover-cars, shuttles or aero-scooters as coordinates flashed across various screens, showing where the warriors had landed. Another flash of the Bifrost. More Aesir.

Civilians on foot who traversed the flat megablock paths on their way to work or leisure fanned out, diving towards the lifts in a massive effort to get off the higher levels and further down toward relative safety. Womenfolk yelling, children screaming, men hollering – warriors shoving their way out of the lifts only to meet their death almost instantly thanks to arrows, throwing knives and blades.

The roofs of the megablocks were now vast empty deserts of flat concrete only covered by the dark-clad, blaster-armed planet security and the variously decked free-lance warriors and indentured fighters who were allowed to roam the planet for hire. This moment, however, was not a matter of entertainment for across from them faced the strong, rowdy, confident companies of Aesir warriors.

This was war.

**[... suddenly...]**

**[... they came...]**

**[... without warning...]**

**[... they will never wake...]**

Unstoppable, the Bifrost opened, closed, opened and closed again, leaving behind even more of the tall, brawny, blond-haired race known (and feared) as the Aesir. In the centre of one particularly regal looking group, an older man bearing a crown stood, surrounded by generals and other scholarly-looking folk. Already, the Aesir had taken up positions about him, radiating outward, fearless eyes facing outward, weapons at the ready.

For a moment, no one moved – and then on the far side, heads turned and feet shifted as three warriors made their way toward the tall, regal King, dragging along a weedy-looking, un-shaven individual. With distaste, they threw the babbling half-breed before their lord and nodded, leaving the King with his top-ranking officials.

"An idiot," the battle-hardened General Tyr spat. "That is all they can find these days. Witless creatures, addled by their herbs and toxins."  
"Peace, Tyr," Odin All-Father smiled down at the trembling green-yellow scaled humanoid. "Addled, maybe but every bit of news will aid us."  
"I will question him," Mage Flarathir stepped boldly forward. "The bite of a soldier may strike fear too deeply in such a weak one's heart. We would not wish for it to pass on before it tells us what it may."  
"And the tender caress of would-be men such as you–"  
"Peace, Tyr," Odin repeated, this time his voice a tad bit harsh. "Ask if he has heard of Captain Thoko and his ship and his crew and his... cargo."  
"Worm," Mage Flarathir tipped his head and two soldiers raised the alien to his feet roughly. "What is your name?"  
"K-K-Kr-Krav."

The blow came swiftly.

"Show some kind of respect to your superiors, worm."  
"Ah... ah..." The green-yellow half-breed Skrull bowed then and licked his lips, eyeing the other lords and the man whom everyone bowed to. _Surely it was not Allfather himself come to Sharda'aa?_ "Your... Lordships?" He hazarded. "I am... I have never..."  
"You will address me as Your Honour." A pause, and Krav nodded. Then Mage Flarathir continued. "We are on a quest to discover the whereabouts of this man," and with this, the Mage flicked open a wide picture bearing the likeness of a Slaver. Below, there was another image of a Slaver's ship. "Captain Thoko and his ship _Nu'Mahvee'sako_. Have you any knowledge of this being?"  
"It is a – a – a – a large planet, Your Lordships and, uh, Your Honours, sirs, Honour, uh – ah – but – but – butbutbut," Krav twitched then and nearly prostrated himself as everyone about him ominously tensed. "But I do know a way to find out – we could – I mean, Your Lordships, uh, Your Honours could – I could – there is the Air Controller Offices who would know –"  
"And how to find this Office?"  
"Well – on this – on my, uh ah, here..." With that, Krav scrabbled into his pocket and drew out a small hand-held pad and flipped through the small screen with his quivering fingers before finding the number he needed. "I can – if I may – if your Lordships – that is –"  
"Speak with them."  
"Right – right – very well – uh ah – let's see..." Krav twitched again and began his call.

-0-0-0-

It was about 28:45 SST when Sharda'aa Air Controller Offices got a panicked call from Krav. Given that he was speaking for the ruler of the Realm Eternal, he was transferred immediately to the "Big Woman Herself" - a pale-skinned, politically-savvy female Shi'ar going by the name Lisha'o Cormo. Within moments, she had a reply for the invading Aesir while simultaneously sending out a warning to the Planet Governor (an equally politically-savvy Skrull by the name of Jylla) that this concerned a shipment of three Aesir.

Captain Thoko and the _Nu'Mahvee'sako _had unfortunately left Sharda'aa only three weeks ago. However, there was good news – the three, er, captives had been left on Sharda'aa and were even now being located for the Aesir.

Krav, the udji'oo junkie, had moved beyond 'this is merely a bad trip' to 'this is reality and the entirety of this planet's well-being depends upon my non-existent diplomatic skills' – which made him six times as jittery. By the time the designation for the three slaves, er, captives were unearthed in the ever-capacious files of the International Employment Bureau, the half-Skrull was literally vibrating. No one had shot each other yet – _but if the missing Aesir are not located... _

Krav felt ill.

**[... there would be no mercy...]**

**[... no mercy for Frei'thovee of the Empire of the MahKo'nai...]**

"From now on," Mage Flarathir stepped back to allow Krav to half-faint against the metal struts of an aerial tower, "I think these... people... will think twice before accepting trade of our kind."  
"Indeed," the All-Father shook his head, blue eye hard and yet sorrowful. "It is unfortunate that this kind of thing should encroach upon our borders." He turned. "And they developed such abilities as to hide our own from us. Worrying, think you not?"  
"Yes," the High-Mage Agaeti moved to the All-Father's side reassuringly, "but no longer. Our message to the Slavers was clearly received – and it will only be matter of time before our magicks and workings and their... removal of the magic barriers will allow Heimdall to see as our Prince as he ought."  
"And perhaps, this Krav, this Daughter of Cormo will bring him to us before then," Odin smiled grimly. "It would be prudent for them to make haste."  
"We have given them but a short time, your Highness," Mage Agaeti replied calmly, "but I feel that they will meet our demands. See, Krav has heard some news."

With that, the generals and mages, the All-Father and the junkie Krav gathered to hear the news.

-0-0-0-

The All-Father's son (Prince Thor himself!) - and Krav knew better than to question the Aesir's veracity on this matter - apparently, was apparently stashed away in a mega-block a half an hour over to the west. Sending a good company of scouts and foot soldiers in that direction, Odin made camp on the megablock upon which they now rested. Paying no heed to the growing number of opposing warriors (a mixed crowd of blood-thirsty volunteers, criminals, Enforcers and actual Planet Security officials), the rest of the camp set up an orderly watch, commandeered a goodly row of seats and a few tables, erected a neat array of tents and then began to, more or less, make themselves more comfortable.

Several curious (and slightly foolhardy) denizens of Sharda'aa passed by or approached the golden Aesir, taking images of the tall, muscled warriors on strange metallic devices. The women in particular sidled up with easy grins and attempted to make small talk. However, a certain grimness hung in the air and the warriors smiled broadly but made no move from their allotted posts.

Yes, the Aesir were definitely on the alert.

A half hour later, the Bifrost opened again leaving behind a tall, lithe, dark-haired girl who looked excited – and announced that she bore information from Heimdall himself. Within moments, she was escorted into the King's presence and paying homage by a formal kneeling stance with a fist on her heart, the beautiful warrior princess (Krav supposed that was what she must have been, she was so gorgeous and terrifying) relayed the message given to her.

"Speak, Sif," Odin nodded easing back in his high-backed, padded chair. "What news from Heimdall?"  
"Heimdall's eyes have penetrated the barriers of the Mahko'nai, your Highness," Sif nodded and added tersely. "Their shields have lowered as per the treaty and her Highness the Queen is currently overseeing the return of the Emperor's sons and the other hostages." She paused. "Heimdall has told me that Thor – that the Prince – he is currently imprisoned several levels down in a place that is known as..." And here she repeated the words dutifully but not fluently as the words did not seem right to her - "The Battle-House of Shax."  
"The Battle-House of Shax!" Krav sighed with relief. "I – I – I know that! That I know! I mean – I've been there once or twice and you know what – yes – yes – yesyesyes – now you mention but – but, uh, but I've not been there recently – busy you know and what with -" Krav caught sight of the Mage's lowering gazes and Odin's stony look. "Right – uh – I did hear tell of some mighty warrior there with blonde hair as golden as the sun and blue eyes like Midgard's sky. Rumours, I thought, but perhaps –"  
"You know where this place is?" Odin asked, beckoning several messengers over with a peremptory finger. "You would be able to lead us to it?"  
"Yes, yes, of course, absolutely."  
"Our reward will be great, if you do not lead us astray," Odin smiled a small smile then, but it was still unnerving to the junkie. His blue eyes fell heavily on Krav and for a moment, Krav felt like there was a planet lowering down on his shoulders. "And should you attempt to decieve us..."  
"No no nononono," Krav babbled, wondering if this would be the first time he would be caught sweating. "I, uh, no deception here – come come –" And he twitched and scuttled off, followed by the girl called Sif and two messengers who sent off hawks, no doubt bearing messages to the companies out scouting, and they were off.

**[... the planet drew its breath...]**

**[... perhaps...]**

The Battle-House of Shax, according to Krav's pad was three megablocks to the north and west, which meant a good half an hour of running. At one point, the slender, unfit alien found himself slung over the back of one of the Aesir warriors. Part of him wished it could have been the girl, part of him was glad it wasn't. He would never be able to face his friends dirt-side again.

Then, the megablock was in sight and Krav nearly sobbed in relief – and then froze as a massive explosion ripped through the roof, blowing concrete and metal and plastic and glass sky high in a massive plume of black. The companies, converging on the megablock paused as smoke drifted and hung in the air ominously – as a wild wailing of something metallic filled the air. An alarm of some sort. Various customers who had not left for the safety of the lower levels were straggling out on catwalks and ramps, coughing and yelling.

For a moment, dread filled Krav's heart and then he saw it – a hulking silhouette surrounded by three others. A glimpse of gold hair and a broad sword.

**[... Sharda'aa would be blessed with Asgardian mercy...]**

**[... to live to die another day...]**

**[... yes, one day...]**

One day, Sharda'aa will burn with the fires of unrest and war and slowly give way to the hunger of the Void.

But this is not that day.

* * *

**Annddd... how is Thor? Where is Kol'la? Dun dun dun...**

**Author's Note 1 - On Loki and His Thoughts On His Kids  
**

**One thing to be wary of is the author's power to present only one point of view on information. Loki is not infallible - and his ideas about his kids may not be correct. They may be. In this fic, Loki will be biologically able to have kids - as in sire them and bear them. He will also be able to procreate with certain other humanoid species (ie. Jotunn, humans, Aesir, elves). Whether he will successfully have a long-term relationship (much less have kids) remains to be seen. My encouragement to readers is to think critically and read between the lines in regards to any character sharing an opinion. LOL. I like to mess with you guys! XD**

**Author's Note 2 - On Loki and Glo-Glo**

**There is a possible spectrum of approach to Loki and Glo-Glo's relationship. You may read it however you like - but I'd like to point out the possiblities for interpreting the relationship and my personal point of view as an author. On one end (point A) is a very cynical reading of the pairing - they are both using each other. Glo-Glo wants sex with a hot, cute, new celebrity and Loki wants his stuff. On the other end (point B), they are in love with each other. My personal opinion lies somewhere in between - which is, IMO, sad and poignant without being depressing. That is, Glo-Glo is NOT Loki's choice - but neither is she a burden. Against his expectations, she gives him a gift - a positive memory to hold on to and a sense of getting back on the horse (as it were) for sex. HOWEVER! This is not love, as Loki repeated. So don't expect a Loki/Glo-Glo ending. LOL.**

**Thank you for reading~!  
Thank you for reviewing~! (I'd love it if you did~~~!)  
See you on... Saturday or Sunday or something. XD  
-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	31. Sun's Ascension II

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Chapter 30 had the MOST REVIEWS TO DATE! THANK YOU GUYS! I ALMOST MADE 10 reviews for one chapter! SO AWESOME - AND ENCOURAGING!**

**A big shoutout to: ClaMiAl, Winter Cicada, Double Gemini, Hrosanna (welcome~), Kai Maciel, Ellie (sorry about the cliffies!), wbss21, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, DragonsFlame117!**

**In other news... THE THOR 2 TRAILER IS TOOOOOOO AWESOME! I HAVE TUMBLED IT TO DEATH! LOKI'S EYES ARE SO GREEN! HE IS SO AWESOME! HIS SMILE! HIS EYES! HIS MAGIC! HIS FACE!**

**HIS FACE!**

***spasms and flails and dies***  
***ded***

**Warning! Slavery! Warning! Angst! Warning! OH MY! Warning!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 31  
Sun's Ascension II

Thor was in the middles of putting a young insect-humanoid hybrid Ugaro Enforcer, known as Ko'en of the Southern Gates, into a rather embarrassing headlock when the first alarm rang out – barely heard beneath the usual rhythmic, pulsing dance music, screaming spectators and boisterous announcers who hadn't stopped talking. Kol'la, a few paces away, turned his head, caught Thor's eye, nodded, flipped and easily turned his opponent, knocking the poor, young Kree off her feet and flinging her to the hard-packed dirt. Thor sighed.

_Once again, he toys with his prey_, Thor thought, eyeing his sneaky shieldmate. _Kol'la always enjoys letting them think they have won_. The blonde warrior winced as Kol'la coolly brought his heavily spiked boot down on his opponent's sternum, jamming the metal breastplate downward in a rather painful way. _A vicious, underhanded way to fight – and entirely without honour._

Yet another part of him, sounding much like Kol'la added, _but it is effective_.

"Ah... now... Exon," Kol'la sauntered over easily, a smirk on his face. His tall, bejeweled spear glittered dangerously – a wicked thing like its incorrigible, heartless owner. It was made of dark metal – with various coils engraved into it – designs of sea serpents and magic runes to entrance its uses. Near the keen blade, which curved gracefully at the top, four gems of varying shapes and sizes. A slender weapon – yet, Thor knew, strong and able to strike from up close and also from far away. The bottom came to rest before Thor and Kol'la peered down at the blonde warrior with a small arrogant smile.

"You do realize this battle was to submission – not death, right... Exon?"  
"Or course," Thor replied with a frown. "I would not forget -"  
"Well," Kol'la shifted onto one foot, a fist on leather clad hip. "I often wonder how you keep any kind of information in that vacuous mind of yours. It is a veritable miracle."  
"Now, Kol'la –"  
"And it is a necessary question," Kol'la continued on ignoring and running over Thor's objection, "since you appear to be bringing Ko'en to an unglorious end. Strangulation. Did the warrior's code transform during the interval of this hour, I wonder. Not that it matters what I think –"

Thor glanced down and realized with a start that the young Ugaro was wildly flailing now. Easing back, Thor let his now very defeated opponent fall forward, gasping 'forfeit! Forfeit!"

"I apologize – " Thor paused, scratching his head as he eyed the coughing Enforcer. "Kol'la says I do not know my own strength."  
"Indeed," Kol'la interjected repressively.  
"- but it is indeed difficult to remember in the heat of battle –"  
"An alarm sounded – ah –" Kol'la sighed, eased back, hands raised disarmingly as the security detail for Ring Two swarmed in. "We will come along – No -"

His calming words were cut off as the guards jerked the beaten Ugaro and wounded Kree to their feet and dragged them off through one grill passage way. A slight pause and then other guards from the second set of doors poured in and uneasily prodded the two victorious fighters into the dim hallway which led to various rooms underneath the stadium. Usually, there was a cool off period in one of the side rooms. Armour was divested, weapons were "locked" away (but easily enough retrieved Kol'la knew, especially for any self-respecting Mage) and then there was a half hour of drinking water and taking refreshments before heading back upstairs to meet the excited masses who had cheered them on (or booed them).

During such events, Thor's easy-going, come-what-may nature and Kol'la soothing, yet sharp and witty silvertongue garnered much attention – to their competing warriors' dismay and Shax's delight. The hearts of the crowd was the heart of coins.

Today, however, it was different.

_Something has happened, that much is certain_, Thor thought as he allowed himself to be herded through the short halls to waiting elevators and then downwards to a waiting High-Security facility room in which stood a rather puzzled Fandral and Hogun, dressed casually for a night of servicing tables.

"What happened?" Fandral asked, blue eyes flashing with worry. He scratched nervously at his weedy attempt of a goatee. "You did not kill someone, Thor, did you?" He turned to Hogun and shook his head. "He never did know his own strength."  
"Or know restraint," Hogun shrugged.  
"Same difference, do you not think?" Fandral rolled his eyes at his monosyllabic friend. "Always splitting hairs, Hogun."

Kol'la turned and raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Thor who laughed sheepishly in confession.

"Something happened," Thor shook his head. "What I know not. I merely put Ko'en into a particular hand-fast hold -"  
"A smothering one – you nearly killed him."  
"So speaks the man who broke the breastbone of a woman needlessly!" Thor glared at Kol'la. "No honour as usual."  
"Ha. She is no more woman than I am," snorted Kol'la. "And we are slaves, remember? Who speaks of the honour of slaves?" A pause, then he answered himself bitterly. "Only fools."

Hogun stared at Kol'la thoughtfully and stepped on Fandral's toes hard just as the vivacious blonde was about to give the usual quick rebuttal to Kol'la's quiet cynicism. It was the usual game between the two and Hogun had no time for it. Not today.

Thor shook his head, "I am no slave -"  
"Oh, sorry, I do apologize," Kol'la snorted. "I must be faint from battle for I thought I saw a collar on you and a prison around you. My mistake."  
"I am no slave," Thor repeated mulishly, fingering his collar and then paused. Stopped. Cocked his head and eyed his friend – the pale-skin, dark-haired, green-eyed young man he now counted as a shield mate.

_All his life, no doubt, he has belonged to someone – but Kol'la does not speak of his past. And his eyes..._ Thor did not know what to call it. Instinct however told him that behind Kol'la's cool gaze there was only pain.

"I am no slave – and neither," Thor sighed, stepping forward to grab Kol'la's shoulder reassuringly. "And neither are you."

-0-0-0-

_... I am no slave – and neither are you..._

_... neither are you..._

For a moment, Kol'la did not move, allowing the weight of Thor's large, warm hand to steady him, almost calming him down and Kol'la bridled at the thought. _I am no beast to be tamed by such simple, trite words - _With that, Kol'la moved away, shrugging off Thor's hand and words.

"At any rate, the alarm was not due to Thor and his usual foolishness," Kol'la switched the subject. "Not us. This time," he added darkly.  
"They did not even let you undress," Fandral mused. "Nor did they remove your weapons!"  
"Did not the Madames at least lock away your weapons?" Hogun gestured at Thor's blade still clutched in his fist.  
"This is most unusual," Thor agreed.  
"I believe we covered that already," Kol'la replied dryly. "Glad to see you catching up."  
"Has this happened before?" Hogun interjected quickly before another flyting battle spouted between Kol'la and the other two.  
"Hm, yes," Kol'la nodded, looking speculatively toward the ceiling. "there was that one time a mage detonated two megablocks away..." A pause. "And there was a leak that needed to be 'locked down' – a radiation leak – not that your kind would be worried about such small things like radiation," Kol'la went on with no small amount of sarcasm lacing his words. "Hm... and there was that other time a fiber-fusion cable failed and there was no electricity for half an hour. That was next door – I mean, the megablock to the south. I was locked into the dorms with the rest for three hours... oh... and that time two Kree went mad with battle-rage and there was a disturbance thanks to some visiting Chitauri – two clubs down. I was on the dance stage when blaster fire erupted across the street..."

Kol'la trailed off at Fandral's, Hogun's and Thor's blank expressions and resisted the urge to smack them on the head.

"Did they ever bundle you into this prison even with your armour and -"  
"No," Kol'la cut Thor off. "But that is under -"  
"Wait, wait," Fandral burst out. "Then something very dangerous must have happened – perhaps an invasion -"  
"Hm, yes, you could call it an invasion," Kol'la agreed calmly. "It is time."  
"Sorry, pardon?" Thor blinked.

Hogun's eyebrows rose and a small smile formed on his lips as he realized what Kol'la had been holding back on them. In response to Thor's question, Kol'la sighed, shook his head and glanced at his fighting partner. An eyebrow twitched with annoyance as he thunked his spear's end rather heavily on the concrete flooring.

"Seriously, Thor, you were there – the announcers were mentioning sightings -"  
"I did not hear them because you were talking on and on -"  
"You have ears and they can work for a variety of purposes, can they not? I swear, Thor -"  
"And if I do not pay attention to you -"  
"One track mind, I see -"  
"Sightings of what?" Hogun asked, realizing that his hard-earned patience was slipping from his grasp.  
"Aesir."  
"Why did you not say so before?" Fandral's exasperated exclamation clashed with Thor's "Father has come!"

The husky young warrior's face lit up immediately and Kol'la's face soured in response.

"As I said he would. Admit it, Kol'la, I was right."  
"You were right," Kol'la admitted grudgingly.  
"And we did not have to wait so long!"  
"Indeed."  
"Come now, Kol'la. Why the long face?" Thor's arms widened and his face split with a great smile. "This is your chance to come to Asgard and taste the sweet delights of freedom! Quests! Honourable combat!"  
"Fresh fruits and vegetables," Hogun added.  
"Beautiful maids," Fandral sighed dreamily. "Enough to whet any man's appetite."  
"Yes! Eating! Drinking! Feasts which last all night long! Wenching! A glorious life of -"  
"I am to go with you to Asgard?" Kol'la asked, green eyes carefully blank.  
"Of course," Thor drew back, disconcerted. "I thought you wanted to come. Where else do you have to go?"

An awkward pause ensued and Hogun grimaced, rubbing his eyes. Kol'la's face hardened in response as he contemplated Thor's thoughtless words.

_Where else do you have to go?_

That familiar ache spread throughout his chest – the hurt he had lived with so long it was as natural to him as the air he breathed. And yet, and yet, it was as if the knife of Truth could still twist itself deeper within Kol'la's dead heart and give him grief.

_Where else do you have to go?_

_He is right, Kol'la. There is nothing for you on Sharda'aa... and only the wilderness of Jotunheim waits for you if you wished... but on Asgard, the Glorious Realm Eternal – there is much knowledge and magic to learn. And this offer comes freely from the Prince himself._ Kol'la hesitated. _Not that he may keep his promise, such is the way of those in power. Still..._

With that thought, Kol'la's right hand rose to his collar, pressing his long slender fingers along it in a row while his left hand clasped the staff tightly. Closing his eyes and ignoring the questions which spewed out of his comrade's, the young mage inhaled – exhaled -

Inhaled.

Air and power and memory and life.

Exhaled.

Power tenfold – running through his staff and his arm, feeding into and growing with the other energies about him. He could feel it – the additional power he had stored over time and everything he could use within and without himself. So much power – Kol'la could taste it on his tongue and feel it expand within his lungs. It burst outward in every direction, barely controllable, a mighty avalanche roaring down a mountain, a reckless river plunging over a waterfall to its new path miles below, a brilliant comet burning its way through the Void itself.

Attempting to collar it, bridle it seemed nearly an impossible thing, but Kol'la -

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

- rode the storm, bursting through his layers of power to a new level of understanding and sight. Ah – what heady release it was – no longer there in body and yet feeling so one with his world.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

_All those years in the dark, dim light of Tarnax and among the gaudy delights of Poison Paradise and wrecking havoc in the training halls of the Battle-House. I was right_, he thought, laughter slipping out – wild and dark and free. _I was right, the world is so much bigger outside and inside than I knew. Blinkered and bridled, but certain there was more – so much more –_

And Kol'la knew that Asgard would have to be – must be the next place for him –

He could not go back. Breaking free and soaring above his plateau, power vibrating through him, Kol'la was certain his destiny would not be bound to some lower kind of pursuit.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

It hummed within him now and bursting out and up, the green magic poured from his fingertips engulfing the collar, overwhelming the inlaid sorcery within. With an ominous cracking, snapping sound, the rune-engraved metal blew apart in four pieces. As the rest of Kol'la's natural magic began to return, the young mage began to pant as he attempted to bring the rest of his burgeoning magic back into control.

The spear, now emptied of its hidden prize, fell out of his grasp and clattered to the ground. Kol'la opened his eyes, raised his hand and touched Thor's collar. His eyes were nothing natural now – a living green flame and when his mouth opened the usually soft voice seemed even more ominous than usual. Before Thor could say anything a shock of energy and magic ran through his collar, overriding the circuits and inlaid magical charms, burning away the runes right off the metal and blasting it apart.

Fandral and Hogun were similarly released – but just as Fandral was about to say something about getting the door open, Kol'la raised his hand upwards. A short verbal command issued from pale lips, his right hand formed a sigil and a beam of energy blasted upward, destroying the ceiling.

"Very well," Fandral nodded, stunned. "That works."  
"Indeed," Hogun said dryly.  
"Impressive trickery," Thor smiled at Kol'la. "Ah, not a trick, I know. Perhaps we should leave now – since I have my sword with me and daggers."

Kol'la picked up his spear and extended his hand.

"Hold on tightly to my arm," he said. "It has been a long time since I attempted this – and never with companions."

Unhesitatingly, Thor took hold of Kol'la's thin arm. After a moment and a glare from Kol'la's flaming green eyes, Hogun and Fandral also took hold. Then they were gone. Barely one second passed before all four found themselves six floors above in Shax's office, where the stunned businessman sat, clearly in the middle of a comm call. Everyone froze – but Shax moved first, hand darting out to press his security button – Thor ran forward to the door and batted down the hulking guards who hustled in, allowing Hogun and Fandral to seize the fallen guard's weapons. Kol'la loomed over Shax with an impish smile.

"Well, Master Shax," he said politely, fingers running along the edge of the fine, imported wood. "I am afraid that this is goodbye -"  
"Kol'la -"  
"Hush," Kol'la laughed then, mockingly. "Do not ruin your moment with something so pitiful as begging."  
"I do not beg," Shax replied equally calm.  
"You should." Kol'la's smile was wide and wolfish and sharp as glass. "You should."

The ensuing explosion took the roof off.

**[... there are some things which, once lost, can never be found...]**

**[... some things that can never be forgiven...]**

"Speaking of showing no restraint," Thor sighed, kicking away some rubble and helping a steadily swearing Fandral to his feet.  
"We needed access to the roof -" Kol'la pointed upward.

He easily leaped onto the desk and jumped up, snagged a crumbling edge of roof and a few bent metal struts and then heaved himself up. Thor followed suit, shaking his head – helping Fandral and Hogun up as well. Below the guards were attempting to get past the badly bent iron office door.

"Access to the roof, yes," Thor agreed, coughing as the smoke and dust rained about him. He squinted as he looked through the gloom about them. "But this is madness -"  
"Effective. The explosion will have caught the eye of your -"  
"SIF!"

Fandral and Hogun's voices rose at the sight of someone slender running toward them in the smoke, yelling something rather incoherent. Kol'la gripped his spear tightly and then, noticing Thor's returning smile, relaxed.

"SIF!" Fandral was saying again, drawing a dark-haired woman into his arms and kissing her brazenly on the cheek. "You came to rescue us? But we did not need it truly – Where is Volstagg?"  
"Back at the camp," said the dark-haired warrior women shortly. She clasped Thor briefly and drew back with a smile.  
"The camp?" Thor asked confused.  
"Your father, the King, Odin Allfather brought a mighty force to this Norn-forsaken planet when we finally traced you here. We had waged war on the slavers and their kingdom, bringing their emperor to his knees and taking his family hostage. Thus peace was forged - and the Mahko'nai released the spells of protection and concealment upon you three just now and Heimdall located you. But enough, we must go and at great speed, should a war break out – well, I feel that His Highness would not approve of making war yet another day."

With that, the companies gathered around and there was much back-slapping and congratulations and a variety of explanations and short stories which did not make much sense thanks to the overlapping conversations and a weedy, looking native of Sharda'aa was released (apparently) with a small bag of gold – and then they were all off, running breakneck back over the flat megablock roofs toward the camp of the Aesir. At the approach of their group, the rest of the Aesir raised a voice of victory – and Thor marched up to his father in an impromptu parade which he led with great panache and style, raising a fist now and then.

Lady Sif, the dark-haired woman warrior, shook her head and sighed, muttering something like, "Here we go again..." Fandral and Hogun on either side of a very fat, incredibly bearded, jolly warrior laughed and Kol'la, standing on the fringe of the crowd, felt even more out of place than usual. There were hard stares sent his way, which he met with equal (if not more) venom, unwilling to budge from his place. Kol'la would hold Thor to his word if that was the last thing he would do.

Odin welcomed his son with great formality, but underneath, Kol'la could read anger, disappointment, sorrow, fatigue – and beneath all of that, joy and love. _A son returning to home to the open arms of his father_, Kol'la swallowed and glared at the stone beneath his feet. _Laufey-King of Jotunheim would never accept me like that. And it does not matter. It never matter. It never did._

But it did.

Then the great King drew his son in for a small embrace and, pulling away, they conversed for a few minutes. Odin's single blue eye fell then on Kol'la's dark head. A blue eye met a pair of green – and for a few seconds, their gazes were caught - then after a moment, Odin nodded wearily. No one could hear the exchange between father and son, but Kol'la's heart grew a little lighter. Thor had kept his promise.

After that, there was a flurry of activity. Ordered chaos and not a little bit of confusion as armour and weapons were double and triple-checked. The temporary camp was brought down efficiently. Thor was bundled off in one direction, the three warriors in another – leaving Kol'la to stand, at the command of a suspicious, darkly-tanned one-handed general, with a company of soldiers until called for. Eventually, the Bifrost opened – again and again, drawing the golden people of the golden land back to bosom of Asgard.

**[... darkness fell on Sharda'aa...]**

**[... blessed with Asgardian mercy...]**

**[... to live to die another day...]**

**[... yes, one day...]**

Kol'la did not look back. He did not need to, even though he had never seen the topside of Sharda'aa before, the now ex-slave had no desire to know more of the place he had called 'not-home' for so long. It was a desolate grey place, a desolate grey sky and beyond, the hungry Void leeched from it, feeding on the minds of its soulless inhabitants. Underneath the dirty, monochromatic crust was another world – equally empty. Illusions and mists of dreams and drugs and brassy music and the girls, like Glo-Glo, and the boys, Silvertongue once upon a time, kicked their heels towards the stars.

So, Kol'la looked forward. There was only the Road of What Is Not ahead.

**[... magic tearing through the Void...]**

**[... triumphant...]**

_Travelling along the Bifrost was like pressing oneself against the window panes of existence_, Kol'la thought, _so close to What Is and What Is Not – screaming with magic, both beautiful and destructive._

Then there was a rich dome, gilt and carved with ancient pictures and a stern-faced dark man who stood facing the stars, sword in hand – and beyond, the Bridge of Many Colours. The Bifrost itself. And beyond it – beyond it –

The eternally youthful sunlight of Asgard broke across Kol'la's face.

**[... a golden place...]**

**[... a golden cage...]**

* * *

**AND KOL'LA IS IN ASGARD! YES!**

**Thank you so much guys for reading! I hope you continue to enjoy - and if you do, please review!**

**Author's Note: On Odin**

**I love reading fics with Odin in all forms - evil!Odin, bad-parent!Odin, awesome!Odin... but when it comes to Distortions in Time, I prefer to try to keep to what I see in the MCU-verse (not Earth-616 or Ultimate Avengers), which is a father who isn't perfect but isn't the worst piece of crap. He is a King who is attempting to keep peace, although he does give his sons mixed-messages. He is, mainly, tired. So, in this fic, the only planet the Aesir smack down is the Mahkonai Empire (the Slavers) and NOT Sharda'aa which is a messed up planet but not the real problem. I don't think Odin is really the genocidal type, really. I kinda read a lot of political stuff into Odin's character - and that should make him a little more complicated than just being a mindless, war-hungry dude. Also, this hopefully explains why there is more pomp and ceremony for when he receives Thor back - instead of publicly reaming out his son, Odin maintains his image. I hope this makes sense and doesn't seem too out of character for you guys... this is just my interpretation of a movie character... **

**Thanks for reading and for being such troopers hanging in there!-KI  
**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	32. Golden Light Breaks

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Alright - first up, THANK YOU WONDERFUL REVIEWERS! YOU ARE THE AWESOME! I GOT THE HIGHEST AMOUNT OF REVIEWS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER! *foams at mouth from excitement and passes out*  
**

**To: Double-Gemini, TheObsessor11294, Ireland Ranger (welcome!), Winter Cicada, DragonsFlame117, ClaMiAl, Hrosanna, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, wbss21, Lady Ray Ray (welcome~), Ellie  
**

**Ellie: I'm glad you are enjoying my Odin so far. He's not going to be pure evil - like he is in the comics Earth-616, but he's not going to be painted in a perfect light... and I really hope that this will continue in the vein that Kenneth Branagh wanted to portray. XD Thanks again for the support!**

**AND THEN... I went onto my author stats page and realized I had broke 1,000,000 words for total words archived! WOOT! (Should I be happy? I feel happy...)**

**I couldn't help but notice that there are people from Canada (my home and native land~~~) reading this story! WOW! And other countries as well! This is amazing! The way fandoms unite people is awesome. I was just in Malaysia... and I really enjoyed myself there, particularly since they have double quarter-pounders at McDonalds and awesome bookstores and a lovely multiplicity of languages and fresh air and Mars Bars and an anime/cosplay/comic con showing! (blown away) Good times. I bought a ton of books to take back to the Middle Kingdom with me - as well as some cinnamon white coffee which I have discovered an affinity for. Tiramisu white coffee is also good. (sigh)**

**Also, I made a silly meme thing for Loki's Army if you wanna see on my tumbr:**

**dappled-things DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 57698828996 SLASH enlist**

**So here it goes. Kol'la's first day in Asgard... Don't get too excited.  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 32  
Golden Light Breaks

At the sight of his people, Thor felt his heart swell with pride and joy and relief – they had come just as he had said they would and he no longer looked the fool before Kol'la, the sharp-tongued. _Kol'la_, he thought, remembering Hogun's soft reply.

_No, you wouldn't... You wouldn't._

_You never share your past, never speak of it, Kol'la_, Thor thought. _Yet I can feel it sometimes – smoky, dark and bitter on my tongue in a rare moment – A door closing between us. And on those days... A sharp look. Just those days - there is a certain stillness. There is a darkness which lies upon you._

As Thor's eyes rose to meet Odin's, he decided to consider the matter further at a later time. _I am no man of words – but perhaps I may help my friend a little and this is the first step to show him the power of constancy... and the promises of Thor.  
_

"Father."  
"Thor," Odin's blue eye lingered on the Prince's cheery, unrepentant face. There was no trace of pain or sorrow on his strong son's face – only barely contained pride and glee. Once again, Prince Thor had survived a mighty trial wits and health in tact. "So you have returned to us, my son – unharmed, I think, and whole..."  
"Father," Thor's smile remained undimmed. "But of course - as your son, could I return in any other way?" He looked about. "You brought many for a mere expedition! Are we to battle? Although... without Mjolnir -" Thor looked about uneasily.  
"There is no need for war when our objective has been so easily obtained," Odin shook his head curtly, lips tightening with obvious anger sparking in his eye, promising Thor a scolding later on. "No need for battle or Mjolnir, and so at home it remains, having returned at my call. Still," the old King clasped his son's shoulder firmly, blue eye pinning Thor with a hard glance. "Your mother will be relieved – she was worried. To say the least." Odin paused. "It will ease her mind to see you safe and sound in Asgard."

Thor shuffled his feet and for a bare second, a look of remorse flitted across his face – but then he brightened and said, "She will see that I have come to no harm, and have proved my honour in glorious combat! It has been a great day, for Asgard has shown its true strength - and if we are to return home now, then Kol'la will be able to end his fretting."  
"Kol'la?" Odin repeated slowly.

At Odin's frown, Thor hesitated, then nodded jerked his head a little, blue eyes glancing to the side in unspoken gesture.

"The dark-haired, tall, thin one. Like Hogun, but not. He's strong, Father -"  
"We do not make a habit of bringing strays home, Thor," Odin's voice was even more tired than before and his son pressed his advantage.  
"But Father -"  
"Let him return to the place from whence he came."  
"He has no home – please, Father. I promised him this thing – freedom – and freedom on this world is no freedom at all. Kol'la is strong. He could – he could work. And his magicks -"  
"He practises seithr?" Odin asked sharply, his blue eye rising to look past Thor, no doubt trying to analyze the willowy warrior-mage more intently.  
"Yes – but he is no old man, nor given to witless superstition and his grasp of the elements and strategy are strong. You know how I never think things through, Father, but when Kol'la is at my side, he is a great aid in battle and reads the enemy well. I have learned to listen to him -"  
"Indeed?"  
"Even though he scolds me with no respect and he has a sharp tongue on him – just as keen as a fisherman's wife at market. His turn of phrase can be quite smooth as well, I know -"  
"He can come then -"  
"I know we do not take captives. See him as an ally. A useful future citizen of Asgard. He could work on a farm – or on the field in our reserves or at the Mage's Court or in the -"  
"Thor. He can come, this Kol'la of yours," Odin repeated a little more forcefully.  
"- palace. Mother would like him. He -" Thor stopped. "He can come? Truly?"  
"Asgard may have some use for him," Odin finally said. "And," he paused as a ghost of a memory that had never been flittered through his mind. "I feel as though..." He shook his head slowly and then raised a hand at Thor's questioning look. "Never mind, Thor - just bring him along."  
"Thank you, Father!" Thor gripped his father's forearms fiercely. "You will not regret it."  
"Hm," Odin replied noncommittally. "Let us hope not."

And with that they were off to Asgard.

**[... the skies are blue...]**

**[... Asgard teems with life...]**

**[... the Golden City...]**

**[... the Realm Eternal...]**

Above Asgard, white clouds leisurely drifted across a clear blue sky, the like of which Kol'la had never seen before, even in his wildest dreams. A blue – paler than his hidden skin and more delicate – and the gentle white strands of clouds. Rising upward majestically into the clouds, behind the great Golden City of Asgard's capital, the City of Asgard, grey mountains with snow above, grey in between and green below, loomed. Such mountains! And the forests which clothed the lower regions of the spurs which spread outward and down to the great city also were neither stark and black nor small and protected. The great trunks and branches, bearing golden fruit and green leaves, stood tall and proud as the natives of the land.

Asgard smelled of green and soil and rich earth and hard rock. Kol'la lifted his face into the clean crisp air and breathed deeply. Inhaled. It was a warm wind and was neither silent as Sharda'aa's nor wild like that of Jotunheim. Filled with warning and dark promise.

_**... who are you, young one, to stand on these golden shores...**_

And Kol'la stiffened his back, green eyes fixed on the capital and strode forward, undeterred. This was his chance – and he would not be moved from his goal: the promise of knowledge and the call of magic.

Striding down after the company of soldiers who marched smartly down the famous Bifrost bridge after the main pack of generals and mages who accompanied the two Royals, Kol'la kept pace with the rest, not wishing to get lost in what looked to be a complicated and large city.

The City of Asgard was a golden place. It shone, literally, like a treasure, the rarest jewel of the Nine Realms – and Kol'la could understand now the envy of all those who had gazed upon her from afar, knowing that this was no home for them. No place for them to stay. A golden realm – and in the centre, more gleaming and fantastical than the rest (if possible), rose the Palace. Even though he had not seen it before, Kol'la could tell with a short glance that it was the principal part of the capital. It was the seat of King Odin, the All-Father.

Yes. A blinding place. The Bridge beneath his feet, the Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, flared with colour. The greenery overwhelmed the senses with spices and the scent of fresh fruit. Gold, of course, everywhere. Intricately carved stone. Obelisks. Statues. Ancient and yet looking so new as if they had been carved yesterday. Sinuous lines and martial edges combining into a balance of art and utility. Above one part of the city, revolving pieces of stone hovered and turned slowly.

"What is that place?" Kol'la asked the soldier next to him.  
"Mage's Court," the soldier replied shortly.

Another laughed and added, "Where those who are gifted in the lesser arts of seithr study their books, perfect their workings and pass on the tales of witless men and superstitious hearts. It is also where our women study the healing arts – and there are men also, those faint of heart and ill-suited for glorious combat."

Kol'la did not reply to that, but his eyes went back to the far glimpse of Thor's golden head bobbing alongside Odin's and frowned, remembering the warrior's dismissive attitude about Kol'la's abilities. _It seems Asgard has no respect for its own power? A strange state of affairs, considering the All-Father's abilities_. Lips pinching together in distaste, Kol'la shook his head.

They walked onward – winding through streets lined with tall, husky, blonde-haired and sometimes dark-haired folk, all dressed well and looking cheery and excited as they hung from windows and balconies, lounged in front of their businesses and on their homes' doorsteps. Flowers were scattered on the soft breeze, drifting downward to light on Thor's blonde hair and Odin's cape, the Mage's cloaks and the intricately linked cobblestones underneath the horses' hoofs.

Raising his hand, Kol'la caught a soft gold-white petal and held it to his nose with a swift inhale. The scent of a flower. Stronger than tunglblom and sweeter. _There is nothing sweet on Jotunheim_, he thought bitterly and dropped the petal, feeling as though his very touch would burn the fair and delicate thing.

Then, they were before the Palace proper and trooping into the main courtyard. Thor and Odin and the rest were escorted inside, the companies were divvied up as was custom (apparently) and scattered for various duties. Kol'la found himself standing before a tough-looking Aesir who glared down at him from a rather crooked nose.

"So, you are the stray the Prince picked up," the craggy old commander spat at the ground roughly by Kol'la's left foot.

Kol'la's back stiffened, his chin rose and his green eyes met blue squarely – and he did not budge. For a moment there was silence and then the taller, much older man nodded curtly with approval.

"The name is Farfin. Farfin of the King's First Company. You will refer to me as 'sir', from this day on."  
"Yes, sir," Kol'la nodded.  
"Now, according to his Honoured Lord Tyr, his Majesty wished you to first try your hands out in the stables and see how you go about things."

A sharp look – but Kol'la stared back dutifully, keeping any angry or annoyance from his face. Anger was a tool – but to wield it, you also ran the risk of being manipulated in turn. Experience had taught him this lesson – it had taught him well: indifference is the wall that can never be broken as it thickens over time. Kol'la's silence was rewarded by another grunt and Farfin spat again onto the straw, jerking his head toward a row of splendidly bricked houses with rows of well-tended, intricately carved wood doors. The stables.

"I will show you your quarters then – and the horses which you will be caring for," Farfin strode off, with Kol'la falling beside (and just slightly behind) him. "Each stable boy, and you are now one, cares for five horses. A stallion or two and a few mares. Every day, there will be regular times for feeding, of course, and grooming and the necessary daily exercise about our Royal Stableyards – and readying any for the use of the Court. You ever work in a stable, boy?"  
"No, sir."  
"Hmph. Thought as much."  
"But I have cared for animals before," Kol'la hastened to add.  
"Hm," was all Farfin said in reply, obviously not entirely convinced. The rest of the journey around the side of the stables to the back, where the yards and sheds laid, was spent in silence with the occasional muttering on the part of Farfin. Something along the lines of "never worked a horse in his life, I warrant" and "useless strays" and "what was the All-Father thinking?"

_What was he thinking?_ Kol'la thought to himself in agreement. A part of him wanted to rage against the injustice of it all. _Thor had promised – promised freedom. And other things. Not that those mattered... _Yet another side of him had to point out that it was freedom – of a sort. _You could walk away from this, but at the cost of a chance to learn what you always wished to know all your life._

_**... who are you, young one, to stand on these golden shores...**_

_**... why have you come, Other-Soul...**_

Kol'la shivered and quickened his pace. _Asgard fears you. They will fear you and hate you as well. _It was that dark part of him again. It whispered those hated truths. _Not truths_, Kol'la shook his head firmly, remembering Thor's face sharpening as Kol'la woke from the call of the Visha'anas. _There are some... some who brought you here out of hope for you. And you will overcome this – Yes_, Kol'la told himself. _This is, after all, a test_. He smirked to himself, envisioning Odin's surprised face. _I am no fool, Odin All-Father._

_**... who are you, young one, to stand on these golden shores...**_

_**... why have you come, Other-Soul...**_

_**... you should not have come...**_

That night, lying on his new bed of straw and rough canvas, three new outfits hanging ready for him in the small chest at the foot of his bed, a string of horse names to memorize by the morning, and a comfortably full belly, Kol'la stared up at the wood ceiling above his head – the underside of the well-thatched roof of the stables. On either side of him, five other stable boys, all of them tall, well-fed, red-cheeked and tan skinned, slept. Soft sounds of breathing and one stable boy's harsh snoring filled the silences. Below, the horses whickered softly and various wild birds swooped in and out of the barns. Kol'la's sharp ears could pick out the soft winnow of their wings and the sleepy chirps of baby birds nestled in the straw, mud and twig nests clinging to the corners of the barns.

A different kind of night compared to Sharda'aa and Tarnax and Jotunheim – a welcome change, in a way. _But not my home_, Kolla reminded himself sleepily. _This is not home._

But he was there. Almost.

He could feel it.

* * *

**OK. So there we go. Kol'la is now installed... in a way... in Asgard. Is he going to go for the top? Is he going to scratch and claw his way to power? We'll see...**

**Some people were mentioning a few things... so here they are.**

**Q: What is the current relative age of Thor and Loki here? (which is when they first meet)  
****Thor is about 19 or so here and Kol'la around 17 or so. XD** Therefore Kol'la's first positive sex experience was the relative age of 17. 

**Q: When is the name "Loki" going to show up?**  
**A: Not for another 8-9 chapters, I'm afraid.**

**Q: Frigga greeting Thor when he gets back will be awesome.**  
**A: It would be, but I didn't write it... but there are a growing list of "side-stories" or "anecdotes" which I'm feeling an increasing need to write. Let me know if you guys want side stories which I would post in a side-fic called "Distortions In Time [insert something here I don't know what]". Some of the side stories would be: A Day with Elska (self-evident), The Jotunn Brothers (on Helblindi and Byleistr), Kayra (Loki and the Apprentice Healer - which is something mentioned up ahead), Welcome Home (Frigga welcoming Thor back, first reaction to the unknown Kol'la), Fingers In Many Pies (a prank Kol'la pulls on one of the Asgardian Mages as a way to get back for something), Here We Go Again (a quest initiated by Thor goes wrong - again),  
Forgetting (Kol'la gets drunk for the first time at Poison Paradise). More would be added as I write more of the story...  
**

**This was a shortish chapter, so I'll see about updating it around Sunday. We'll see... depends on a certain sticky conversation in Chapter 38 that I have to iron out...**

**-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	33. Golden Rays Burns Deep

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thank you, wonderful reviewers! To: Hrosanna, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, Ireland Ranger, Winter Cicada, wbss21, DragonsFlame117, ClaMiAl, TheObsessor11294, a big thanks for hanging in there!**

**Youthful silliness up ahead! Conversations for the win... I hope!  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 33  
Golden Rays Burns Deep

**[... new seasons, new cycles...]**

**[... each year passes...]**

**[... golden and ripe, sharp and poignant...]**

**[... as fruit...]**

There was a rhythm to Kol'la's life now – a new kind of living which he found to be neither repugnant nor desirable. It felt like nothing he had experienced before. A kind of stasis. A kind of numbness. As if he was waiting for something. What he lingered for, Kol'la did not exactly know and on warm nights when the sweet heat of Asgard pressed down on his usually cool skin, Kol'la felt the urge to escape the golden existence of Asgard even more strongly than ever.

And yet...

**[... and yet...]**

Those times. Those times he watched the so changeable skies of Asgard – clear, filled with puffy clouds or swollen and dark with rain or blackness lit by lightning. Those times he supped alone, too annoyed by the eternal summer heat to properly deal with his noisesome fellow stable-hands. Those times when the evening air hummed with fat bees and the chirrup of crickets and the saw of other small living things which nestled in the cracks of wood and straw and buzzed over the pungent piles of shat which lay in the nearby compost pile.

_The compost heap_. Here, Kol'la smiled as he considered what rose in the corner of the back stableyard. The compost heap was an alien thing and, having been discovered in Asgard, was forever linked to warriors and wide boards of food and lusty wenches and Life incarnate. It was a strange heap to Kol'la, even after the years that passed – odoriferous, a riot of colours which lost to time and decay and spread as mulch over the less blessed portions of land, bringing a chance for life.

An interesting thought: the compost pile sinking into the grass was eaten by the horse and then returned to the land. Another cycle – a new kind of life Kol'la learned quickly. And he waited. Waited. And he fretted.

Some days, as he went about his chores – feeding and grooming the horses, mucking out the stables and running errands – Kolla wondered why he had remained there. The maturing young man, continuing to slowly grow (and yet showing no signs of Jotun adulthood), knew that part of it was Thor and part of it was hope.

Hefting a pitch fork and attacking a nearby stack of hay for his favourite mare, sweat rolling unpleasantly down his back and chest as the sun beat down on his dark head, Kol'la cursed them both. And as if summoned by his dark thoughts, a loud holler rang across the shat and mud-smeared, intricately designed, dark cobblestones of the stableyard.

A loud "Kol'la!" followed by: "Kol'la! Great news!"

Emerging from Thora's stable, Kol'la squinted upward at the Prince who had, astride his favoured brown charger (not given to Kol'la's 'inexperienced' care), trotted over with a wide bright grin. As ever, there it was – the perpetual smile which Kol'la knew to be as great and vacuous as Asgard's blue sky. A light-coloured barn swallow darted into the stables just then and Kol'la heaved a disgusted sigh. _Not entirely vacuous_, he allowed. _There is also his love of battle, passion for women and feasting and that generosity – devastating, thoughtless and equal to all..._ Kol'la glared sourly up at the excited Prince, noticing all the signs of a 'great and mighty quest' which translated to 'going on a dangerous, not well-planned jaunt without permission' in Kol'la's book.

"Kol'la! Great, great news! You would not believe!"  
"And a good morning to you, Thor," Kol'la grunted in return.  
"I am -"  
"The answer is no," Kol'la stalked off into the stables, cutting off the Prince effectively.

Watching his shield mate disappear, Thor sighed and dismounted, the better to follow his annoyed friend into the only marginally cooler depths of the Royal Court's stables. Behind him, Sif gave a gusty sigh of equal annoyance and disapproval at Kol'la's (continued) curt and rude behaviour which had been present since the first day he had arrived. Why the Prince continued to seek out the stable boy was beyond the ken of most of the young people of the King's court.

"Come now, Kol'la!" Thor was saying, coming to a halt by the young man who had begun to polish a particularly fine silver bridle. "Do not be this way! I have not yet spoken -"  
Kol'la's long slender hands did not pause, nor did the dark head rise as he replied shortly, "I am busy."  
"Oh, now -"  
"Busy, Thor," Kol'la reached for a small brush to scrub a little more carefully in the hard-to-reach inlay of the filigree.  
"You always say that."

Kol'la stopped his scrubbing to massage the bridge of his nose, feeling the usual headache come on. The conversation was beginning to sound all too familiar.

"I always am."  
"No, you are not!"  
"You call me a liar now, Thor? I cannot be given to such habits as yours -"  
"What are you ranting about now?"  
"- gallivanting about -"  
"Oh. That. Well – you -"  
"- and as a lowly -" Kol'la would not be stopped now.  
"Do not say such things -"  
"- stable workhand, I cannot go running off on some hair-brained adventure -"  
"Kol'la, you need not be afraid, nor cower here in the stables-"  
"You call me a coward?" Kol'la glared up at Thor. "You call me a -"  
"Kol'la. Listen. I did not mean -"  
"- a coward because I obey orders? Is that what cowardice now – to do one's job in the role -"  
"Listen!" Thor was bawling now at Kol'la with an incensed roar. "Now you listen to me! I apologized-"  
"Some apology," was Kol'la's disbelieving, dead-pan reply.  
"And you know that you are as willing to enjoy a fine trick or an opportunity to practice your seithr just as much as I enjoy a good fight -"  
"Now -"  
"Kol'la Silvertongue. That is who you are and do not forget it! Kol'la Silvertongue, the Mischief-maker, the Strategist Extraordinaire. Thor's Shadow. My right-hand man! That is who you are, Kol'la." Thor leaned down, shoved at Kol'la's shoulder and drew a furious green gaze upward. "You are no mere stable boy, Kol'la." He added softly. "I see you."  
"I do not need comforting like those lackadaisical maids at the Court," snapped Kol'la. He snorted. "'See you' indeed!"  
"This is about last time," Thor sighed, "is it not? It is!"

Kol'la redirected his venomous stare at the intricately wrought silver bridle in his hand.

"Listen. I said I was sorry -"  
"Thor," Kol'la sighed, knowing Thor spoke sincerely. He always did. "It was my fault just as much as yours. However." A pause. Kol'la collected his thoughts. "The whole venture would have gone smoother if you had just..." He sighed. "I often wonder, when you blunder ahead without thought – when you ignore my advice constantly – when you pander to the whims of less intelligent, fawning sycophants who call have less spine then jellyfish combined -" Kol'la's green gaze swung back to Thor's blue one, accusingly. "I often wonder... why am I there?"

Thor shuffled his feet – opened his mouth. Kol'la raised a finger warningly.

"Am I some kind of court jester to provide light relief? A scapegoat to blame? A foil to uphold and add to your glory? Someone who makes your ego puff up as you look at me and pity what I can never become?"  
"Kol'la -"  
"No, Thor," Kol'la sighed, long fingers suddenly releasing their tight grip on the bridle. "No, Thor," he repeated. "I will not go."  
"You are not my whipping boy," Thor frowned, "nor are you my foil, Kol'la. Listen -"  
"I might as well be."  
"Does your back pain you still? I will speak with Mother; she – OW!"

Thor's obsequious response was cut short by a sharp cry as Kol'la's boot met with his shin.

"Kol'la!"

It was Sif. The tall, well-muscled, tough young woman, clad in light half-armour and gold and red leathers, approaching the door, frowned as Thor cursed Kol'la's nameless forebears and nursed his shin. "Have care how you address -"  
"Peace, Sif," Thor grunted. "It was merely the flailing of an infant -"  
"Keep talking and I think Kol'la will explode," Fandral's light laughter cut in.

Kol'la did indeed look like he was about to tear off Thor's head. For a moment, it seemed possible that the son of Odin would meet an untimely end hung to his death by bridle gear... but Kol'la managed to rein himself in.

"Leave," he choked out. "Leave. Now."  
"Why should we?" Fandral asked in his usual airy, irksome fashion – with barely concealed laughter in his undertones. "These will be Thor's stables one day. And, Kol'la, you will come at his beck and call."

Awkward paused. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of horses nickering and stamping, birds chirping in the rafters, a crow's harsh caw-caw, a far off stable master whaling on a young stable boy, the hup-hup of a horse trainer in the nearby training ring and the further off clang of the blacksmith's hammer striking the anvil. Fandral's horse shook its head and Volstagg's ever cavernous stomach rumbled.

"When you say it like that," Volstagg finally muttered, "it seems too incredible to be true."  
"Now, that is a fact," Kol'la rose, bridle in hand and moved over to hang it carefully from its designated peg.  
"Kol'la," Sif frowned bristling. "Why must you always show Thor such disrespect -"  
"First, he must earn my respect and, having once earned it, keep it," hissed back Kol'la. "Thor one day may indeed become a great King... but presently, he is no king of mine – and at this rate, he never will be."  
"Careful now," Hogun's hand suddenly clamped down on Sif and Fandral's shoulders.  
"That is sedition!" Fandral sputtered trying to pull away and failing.  
"This is why I said -"  
"Think through his words carefully," Hogun reminded them.  
"And Kol'la is a liar -"  
"He grew up among liars -"  
"It is not his fault," Thor protested, muscles tensing at the thought of Kol'la's words.  
"What are you implying?" Kol'la growled, fists tightening as he tried to keep a leash on his fast rising temper. His patience was wearing thin.  
"What do you think?" was Sif's cool reply.  
"Come now -" Volstagg stepped forward.  
"Sif!" Thor said, his strong voice cut through his friends' babble. "Kol'la and I have things to discuss – and it remains, as always, our own business."  
"Ever since that trip -"  
"Captivity," corrected Hogun.  
"Whatever it was, ever since you have returned with... Kol'la... you have, well, lost all commonsense!" Sif waved her hand dismissively. "Thor, you cannot – cannot listen to this – this – serpent."  
"Serpent? Serpent! I was attempting to ignore the idiot!" Kol'la snapped back. "I declined his invitation and he would not leave me alone."  
"Oh," Fandral said, a little stupidly and Sif eased away uncertainly.  
"The last time -" Thor grimaced, glancing at Kol'la apologetically. "Well, you saw what happened..."  
"Hm. He missed out on his duties thanks to your shortcut," Hogun agreed. "Lateness is the worst misdeed in Master Farfin's books."  
"Shortcut? Is that what you call it?" Kol'la bit out. "If that was a shortcut, then I am the King of Alfheim! Thanks to Thor -"  
"It was unfortunate," Sif finally agreed grudgingly, remembering her own dismay at the whipping Kol'la had received as punishment for dereliction of duties. "Does your back still pain you? There is an antidote, quite cheap, which you may purchase in -"

At that point, it took Thor, Fandral and Hogun to hold Kol'la back from tearing out Sif's throat. When everyone settled down again on various hay bales, the horses still standing outside waiting still for their very delayed masters, everyone took a breath and contemplated the problem at hand.

"Kol'la has not yet forgiven me," Thor finally admitted, poking at the hay absently. Then, he shrugged and smiled. "As usual. You need not understand, Sif. And he will get over it."  
"Oh, I will, will I?"  
"You always do."  
"He does?" asked Fandral.  
"These days, you two always look... well..." Sif shifted. "Angry."

Kol'la glared at his hands, Thor contemplated the stable ceiling. Then, the ever active warrior jumped to his feet and hefted his hammer.

"Kol'la will get over it. It is merely how things work between us, Sir. Kol'la," Thor added airily. "I was not intending to press you into our quest. If you cannot come, then you cannot come. I only fear that you will once again bury yourself in the local archives. You are turning into an old man before your time! And it is not for glory. It is my Mother – well, apparently she ran out of a particular stock of some magical herb which she so loves to use for her tea – and it only grows in a certain valley in Vanaheim. So I thought to give her a gift of freshly picked herbs. It would only be a small trip – and we need your aid to find such a flower. Think of it. Vanaheim – my mother's homeland. I know you have not yet traveled there, Kol'la. It is a fair place and most beautiful."  
"You wish me to find a flower for you?"  
"Well. Yes..."  
"In Vanaheim."  
"Yes. No battles. No enemies. A short visit and it is entirely the sort of thing you would enjoy – mucking about with magical herbs and whatnot."  
"Thor." Kol'la sighed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished himself far away from this too bright, too noisy, too hot place. Kol'la knew – Vanaheim was in his near future. _I wanted to go_, Kol'la sighed, _but not saddled with a pack of dou'ma who do not know the difference between a plant and a weed, much less the difference between clover and mistletoe. _

"Thor," he repeated. "What is the name of the flower? Where can we find it? In what manner do we harvest it in order to maintain its original magical powers? Is it against the laws of Vanaheim to harvest this plant? Will we need to pay any kind of tax or toll or farmer for the harvesting of such plants?"

Another long pause. Volstagg took out a lumpy package of brown paper and proceeded to unwrap a couple savoury pieces of what looked like mutton. Sif shifted further away from the curly-headed, heavily bearded man and focused instead on Kol'la and Thor. Thor who stared at Kol'la dumbfounded.

"I thought you would know – what with all those books you read night and day -"  
"Night and day?" Kol'la's voice rose sharply. "I hardly read books night and day, Thor! Merely when I have spare time – which is only in the very early hours of the morning and at night."  
"Well, you just look like you are reading all the time -"  
"Did I look like I was reading when you first interrupted me just now?"  
"Uh, no..."  
"Well then."  
"At any rate," Thor said lamely. "I thought you would know."

Kol'la stared at Thor's obvious disappointment with great incredulity. Somehow the fool thought that he would be able to know the Vanaheim herb! _Seriously... the dou'ma... _And yet, another part of Kol'la warmed at the thought that Thor had thought to first come to him instead of going to the Mage's Court for advice and guidance. _That Thor had expected me to know..._ Kol'la did not know if he wanted to laugh or cry. He opted for a shake of his head and a deep sigh.

"This afternoon, I can spare some time at the local archive and we can research the matter after Lady Sif investigates the matter in more detail."  
"Me?" asked Sif.  
"Yes," Kol'la eyed the young woman shrewdly. "You are a girl, after all... are you not?"

Volstagg muttered something, Fandral chuckled, Hogun sighed and Sif bristled.

"Of course," she said.  
"Well then, you enter the Queen's Court and ask of her serving maid the name of the herb in question. Once we know that, we can better research how to get it. Then, then we may go – perhaps two days from now... Who knows? It may be such an easy matter, you will not even need me to be there."  
Thor looked betrayed, "You must come, Kol'la!"  
"We shall see." A beat, then: "Does this not seem to be a better plan, Thor?"  
"Yes," was the reluctant reply.  
"Very well then, I shall see you after lunch," Kol'la rose to his feet and dusted off his pants before stepping away. "I have other duties to attend to. Until then."

With that he disappeared. Sif shook her head.

"Thor. I do not know what you are thinking. He is not to be trusted!"  
"You do not know him, Sif."  
"No, you do not know him -"  
"He has shown no sign of dishonour or disloyalty toward me," Thor replied evenly. "In the bonds of captivity, in the heat of battle, he was there – protecting my back. Kol'la... I do know know what his past holds, but this I can say that he wishes for a better future. Do we not all deserve a chance?"  
"Yes," Fandral eyed Thor, considering the oddly wise words coming from the usually hot-headed warrior. "You sound rather grown up."  
"I do?" asked Thor, frowning.  
"In a way," Hogun rose as well. "Do not let it get to your head however. Early days."

And with that, they left. Another day in Asgard. Another cycle.

**[... another cycle...]**

* * *

**We'll see how things turn out and how the centuries have passed for our young men. XD I hope we can see here how Thor doesn't mean harm - but he is clearly insensitive. He is NOT MALICIOUS... just... insensitive.  
**

**A few questions from readers:**

**Q: Will we see Sleipnir? Is Sleipnir around?Author's Note: Yes, I will mention Sleipnir when I can fit it in without seeming like a huge deal - because it's not a huge deal in the movies and it won't be in this fanfic either. Remember Loki has no kids and so Sleipnir is only mentionable in passing.  
**

**Q: What was Thor thinking putting Loki in the stables?!  
Author's Note: This was not Thor's call - it was Odin's. Odin is... a very complicated person. Think Dumbledore. In armour. With one eye.  
**

**I also anticipate people asking questions about Frigga. She will show up - but in a very specific situation. I feel that in the movies she is very much relegated to certain duties and as such wouldn't necessarily have bumped into Loki at this point. Yeah... Hope this is believable!**

**-KI**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	34. Rise To Meet The Sun

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Wow! People seem to be enjoying this! I'm so glad!**

**Thanks to all my reviewers who commented and chatted and brought up some good points! Be sure to check the author's note at the end of this chapter! **

**To: Winter Cicada, Ireland Ranger, ClaMiAl, Hrosanna, DragonsFlame117, wbss21, Immortal Sailor Cosmos, NX-Loveless-XN, Guest and Ellie!  
**

**Ellie: Thor and Kol'la are so fun to write together! I'm glad that's showing!  
Guest: Check the author's note below... but perhaps the answer to your question is... yes. Haha. XD**

**Here we go adventuring~!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 34  
Rise To Meet The Sun

"Well," said Kol'la in a deadpan voice, staring at the brown rafters overhead, "I told you so."  
"You always say that," Sif's disgusted voice sounded out through the dim light which pierced through thick iron bars of their underground cell which also hummed with a strong magical barrier.  
"It is always true."  
"This is not helping," Hogun finally said, shutting up his two comrades in distress.

The usually taciturn warrior's words could only silence the two other restless captives for a short while before Kol'la began complaining again. _It is as though he is unable to leave his wounds alone_, Hogun mused. _Always, he must pick and poke and prod until it runs with blood afresh. Until the scar lays thick and eternally unremoveable._

"And this always happens -"  
"It does not always happen," Sif rebutted. "Just sometimes."  
"More times than I would like. Why Thor -"  
"This is not Thor's fault!"  
"Well, he -"  
"This is not. Thor's. Fault," repeated Sif slowly and mutinously. "And you know it."

A small smile crossed the warrior's usually stoic face as Kol'la's sigh issued forth into the falling evening air.

"I guess not," he admitted slowly.  
"She is right," Hogun finally had to support his friend. "Kol'la, this was not Thor's fault..." A pause. "However, challenging a group of farmers to single combat is not the best way to endear oneself to one's opponents." As Kol'la tested the strength of the wards again, Hogun added, "Thor will come."

Yet, he wondered if those words held any true consolation for the young ex-slave. _The Kol'la of Sharda'aa could not believe... and is the Kol'la of Asgard any different?_

Sif stirred and then shifting a little to her left, laid a hand on Kol'la's shoulder comfortingly as he sat down beside her heavily on the small cot. They sat there in the falling dark. In silence.

**[... these happy golden hours...]**

**[... pass swiftly...]**

**[... and fade...]**

The herb-gathering 'quest' to Vanaheim began well – all things considering. Armed with the name of the plant in question, Kol'la spent his dinner hour researching the topic – and gathered as much information as he could. Thanks to his careful reading and clear instructions, Sif and Hogun were able to help him cut the tender stalks without crushing the sweet nectar within.

It was not his fault that illegal activities were happening in the forest Thor had chosen. Nor the fact that the elven locals, now irate and suspicious, had not listened to Thor's protestations and proceeded to imprison the three herb-gatherers. Of course, Thor remained free.

_Of course_, Kol'la fumed as he paced the small cell he shared with the other two. _I hope the idiot has the sense to send Fandral home with the plants before they wilt. _

By the time Thor managed to reach his uncle, Lord Frey, negotiate his friends' release, brag about his own valiant combat against the thieves, the flowers had begun to die, losing the precious nectar they needed in the first place. Cutting off Thor's excuses, Kol'la scolded the taller warrior until Thor got annoyed and wrestled Kol'la into silence with a hearty 'ha-ha'. Lord Frey was not amused. However, before Lord Frey could send word to his sister, several guards arrived through the Bifrost with the intent of escorting the entire party home. The promise of punishment hung in the air and Thor sighed as Kol'la's glares became more menacing by the minute.

Then they arrived on the Bridge. Then they arrived at the castle. Then they were hustled into the throne room. Then, alone with a stern-looking Odin and a worried Frigga, the three Warriors, Sif, Thor and Kol'la, on single knee, endured a long scolding. A tedious reprimand lengthened by unnecessary and increasingly annoying interruptions on the part of Thor.

Behind the four warriors who ranged on either side of Thor and behind the Prince himself, Kol'la kept his head down, mouth shut, eyes trained on the glorious marble paving upon which he knelt and ears wide open for anything concerning his as yet uncertain fate. In the end, the Warriors Three and Sif disappeared down various halls to return to their families, who would no doubt sigh and assign them some tedious tasks as punishment.

For a moment, there was silence.

**[... but not true silence...]**

**[... Asgard is a land of light and sound...]**

"You are the stable boy, Kol'la, are you not?" Odin paused at the remaining lackey who, according to rumours, had inveigled himself into Thor's company. Ever since that day – when Thor had argued for Kol'la's invitation to Asgard – the two had gone through various stages of friendship. Oft times, during those rare moments when their small family could take their supper privately, the conversation between the three Royals would inevitably revolve around Thor's recent misdemeanours and Kol'la's name would crop up with alarming regularity.

According to General Tyr, Kol'la was outwardly biddable, quiet and respectful towards his betters and quick to obey Commander Farfin's orders. A lover of books and gifted with natural affinity for the magical arts and seithr, the boy did not usually opt to battle other warriors, nor did he attempt to further his capabilities on the field or in the ring. Any sign of the vicious warrior Thor had boasted of seemed to have disappeared, revealing instead a natural bent toward strategy and politicking.

_Intriguing_, Odin thought, eyeing the slender figure before him,_ that this uneducated child should hold all the natural mental capabilities of a king... and Thor, as future king, would do well to heed his advice_. Odin glanced at his wife. Frigga had remained silent this time around, obviously torn with pride and love – for Thor had done this for her sake... and also disappointment. What she thought of Kol'la was not apparent. _I do not think we have met him properly_, Odin frowned. _This must be rectified. _

"Yes, Lord King All-Father," Kol'la was saying, eyes still trained on the floor.  
"Hm." An ominous pause. "Rise, Kol'la. Thor."

The two young men smoothly rose to their feet. Thor, as usual, looked only mildly apprehensive and mostly proud of he had achieved. What Kol'la felt could not be read from a studiously blank face – and still body. Yet, Odin felt mild tension vibrating from the dark-haired young man's shoulders – and those vibrant green eyes glinted.

"You came to this Realm, thanks to my son's intercession," Odin nodded. "I recall that day – and I remember saying to my son something of not wishing to regret such a decision some may consider foolhardy -"  
"Father – in this matter, Kol'la is innocent -" Thor interjected, hand cutting down sharply through the air, at which Kol'la's chin jerked a little  
"Thor -"  
"He was obeying my orders!"  
"That is interesting and something to consider - the issue of the level of responsibility you appear to take for this misadventure on Kol'la's part," Odin agreed. "For although you are my son and will rule this land, you do not yet directly rule Kol'la... who should be answering to Commander Farfin alone."  
"But Father -"  
"What do you say for yourself, Kol'la?"  
"It is as the All-Father says," Kol'la meekly replied, and yet there was a note of resigned disappointment in his tone of voice.  
"Hm." Odin waited for a few seconds, but Kol'la showed no signs of stirring from his stiff stance and the bright green eyes were more trained on the back of Odin's throne than the King himself. "However, Thor called on you, Kol'la, and no one, I know, can gainsay him. Therefore, I shall leave your reprimand to Farfin who is a good man and understands the full weight of Kol'la's actions in relation to his responsibilities." Odin caught Frigga's eyes and she nodded, blue eyes showing a little relief at her husband's leniency. "With that, Kol'la, you are dismissed."

Kol'la bowed again, turned on his heel smartly and marched out, slim figure straight, back firm and with nary a look behind at his comrade. Steps even and unhurried, the stable work-hand walked down the broad, pillared, resplendent and yet imposing Hall of Odin's Court. It was a place he had only entered once before and the riches, the luxury of gold and brocade – the glittering jewels and beautifully carved marble seemed like another foreign, alien world to him. Kol'la belonged in the dark, the dim places, the corners of rock and stark wastelands. He smelled of horse and straw and dung and sweat. Kol'la did not belong here.

The great doors opened before him seamlessly, allowing him to pass out and down lovingly carved stairs to the great doors and then three foyers and the Great Courtyard and onward and downward to his own place where he belonged.

**[... where is home...]**

**[... at journey's ending...]**

**[... to what place do you return?]**

Farfin was waiting, legs akimbo, arms folded, face creased in a deep frown – and at the sight of his errant underling, his iron grey moustache rose as his lips parted and a cross between a bellow and a shout issued forth. Kol'la did not stop walking forward but his fingers tightened at the signs of Farfin's displeasure. _The King did not punish me_, Kol'la thought, _and did not lay the blame on me – but the commander is within his rights. I was a day late, after all. _

Once again, Kol'la found himself cursing Thor and his carelessness as he strode forward to stand before his superior. Farfin wasted no time. Damning Kol'la and his forebears and his lack of wit and commonsense and rebellious nature and no sense of duty, Farfin raised his voice knowing that the other stable-hands were listening – and also learning their place. _Knowing one's place, after all_, Kol'la mused inwardly as he allowed Farfin's invective to stream over him,_ is what one really must understand. Know your place, Kol'la._

"- and you understand the root of all of this, do you know, Kol'la?"

Kol'la knew better than to answer that question. Just as with Boss-man and Shax, Farfin was given to rhetorical questions and so the dark-haired, green-eyed young man held his tongue.

"This is all due to your need for attention and belief that your betters are your equals and your place here has no meaning at all for you as you raise your eyes to the Royals and their kind and imagine your place among them. Your absurd belief that you might stand and fight at the side of one such as our Crown Prince will cost you much if you continue on in this matter, Kol'la – and your extra duties for the following week will enable you to reflect on such things. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Good. Report to Arfol tomorrow. Until then, return to your quarters."  
"Yes, sir."

The next morning, after his usual duties, Kol'la went to Arfol, the stables' head caretaker, and received his extra duties assignment – scrubbing the stable yard cobblestones. By hand. It was gruelling, back-breaking work and entirely a waste of time, usually allotted to poorer workers looking to earn an extra coin and perfect in this instance to teach a high-reaching, invidious would-be lackey to the Prince.

Several hours later, Kol'la heard the familiar voices of Thor and the All-Father and, glancing upward swiftly, the young man now on his hands and knees scrubbing the paving caught sight of a group of courtiers and ambassadors from Alfheim obviously readying themselves for a hunt. Hunting was, after all, a favoured past-time for many who lived within the Nine Realms and a perfect way to show hospitality during diplomatic functions. As the horses trotted past (dragging straw and muck back onto the paving), Kol'la found himself hard-pressed to suppress a sigh – but he kept his head down and his hands moving with the scrub brush.

There was an uncomfortable pricking at the back of his neck as he continued his work, feeling more unkempt and unwashed than ever under the scrutiny of the elves and the courtiers. It brought to mind old memory he had long hoped to be dead: Helblindi, standing in a great hall of black stone and blue and looking imperial with his silver and Royal lines. His only consolation was that, considering the fact that the Crown Prince would be confined to what the restless warrior felt to be incredibly tedious diplomatic functions, Thor would be as bored as he was humiliated. With that, he returned to work and forced himself to forget the Prince and his own aspirations.

-0-0-0-

This is the cosmos. The worlds of What Is, filled with wondrous things, can not be considered as fair as the Nine Realms which hang in their prescribed places since the dawn of Time. They revolve in their turn, born of more than matter and heat and light, and thus stand as signposts of What Is Not. Among millions of glorious stars, broad vistas of nebulae and rock and everything that exists in the galaxy called home, there flows, they say, a current of magic, curling and flowing and eddying around the nine focal points: The Nine Realms, of which Asgard, Jotunheim, Muspelheim, Alfheim and Vanaheim are the five most powerful, shimmering on the edges of What Is and What Is Not.

Like Asgard, Vanaheim is a fair, golden place – a sheltered place, now a peaceful haven, if you believed the stories of travelling merchants and would-be space pirates. Long ago, it was said, before Jotunheim had raised its head, the Realm of Vanaheim had battled Asgard in a desperate attempt for Allpower – and failed. Now it lay in the bosom of Asgard, under its watchful eye, being closest to that golden Realm.

Not so far off – yet further away, Alfheim lies – the Realm of the Light Elves, the Fair Ones, it is a green and living place, full of the fantastic, the mythic mixed with the mundane. Under the great boughs of trees, Alfheim's inhabitants, the Elves, dwell, eternally sheltered by the evergreen leaves of their last forests. Chattering rivers run down from the mountains and meeting together spill out into larger rivers and lakes and the Sea. Thus surrounded by nature, the ambassadors of Alfheim most enjoyed the hunts on Asgard – which led the King's party away from the bustling, over-crowded capital of Asgard and toward the lowering eaves of Asgard's own great forest, Storrmirk, which wound its way around the foothills and nether reaches of the Storrfjall Mountain and its range which spread outward from the centre of Asgard. Within the Storrmirk, wildlife teemed, carefully farmed and hunted during the appropriate seasons that the symbiotic relationship between man and beast may remain balanced as it has after thousands of years.

Hunting was one of Thor's favourite things to do – particularly during the cooler months of the year when boar, deer and bear roamed in the nearer reaches of the forest. On ordinary days, Thor would have his horse saddled, and, if his friends were not already with him, would call for the Warriors Three and Sif to join him. Sometimes Apprentice Kyrr and a few others from the King's Court and the Mages' Council would join them – and on occasion under the guise of caring for the horses or without permission, Kol'la would be given permission to join.

However, hunting with the delegation of Alfheim was another matter entirely. There was no tussling or coarse jokes, no horsing about nor room for error – for this was the time to show Asgard's pride and glory, wisdom and strength, past and future achievements. And when evening fell, when Asgard's guests had bedded down in the King's sumptuous hunting lodge far up the mountain above the capital, Odin found himself alone with Thor at his side in the main hall. Evening fell and shadows extended through the room from the walls, leaving only a square light to stretch through the large, open spaces. Without a word, Odin rose and paced to the grand door facing to the north. He turned and observed Thor who sat slouched on a barely padded wood bench.

"Follow me," he said.  
"Father?" Thor looked up, confused and jumped up, striding over easily to his father's side.  
"Come..." A silence ensued as the two left the lodge and walked to the edge of the mountainside which the King's hunting cabin was set securely against.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of whistling wind and rustling branches and the sound of scurrying in the forest which sheltered them on either side. Before them stretched the city – golden still, glinting under the pale moon, and silent. Far away, Thor's home still seemed as awe inspiring as ever and his heart swelled with pride... And yet, he mused, it's odd to see it so, for at this distance, there is none of the life that I am used to.

"What do you see, Thor?"  
"The capital... Asgard..." Thor said slowly.  
"Hm," was Odin's short response.  
"There is something else to see?" Thor asked carefully. A pause and then a deprecating short laugh. "Kol'la says there are always two views to a single thing and things rarely are what they appear."  
"He is wise."  
"Yes..." Thor sighed. "He is. His intelligence is keener than mind," he ended regretfully.  
"That may be true – but knowledge and intelligence are not wisdom. When I look down... I see people, Thor, my people. Our people. The reason for what we do. These past few years, I have watched you grow – but you must grow and mature even more if you are to take the throne."  
Thor groaned, "I want it, Father. I do! But..."  
"What is a king, Thor?"  
"Well... he is Lord of the land, protects the Nine Realms, rages war on beasts, creatures and beings, such as the Jotunn, who would do it harm."  
"A king never seeks out war," Odin warned Thor.  
"Certainly," Thor agreed, "but neither must we show weakness!"

Odin shook his head and sighed. "What I say does not appear to remain with you. You have much to learn yet, my son."

"You always say that."

Thor's words sounded sulky in the dark and Odin could not read his young child's face thanks to the falling shadows.

"Sadly, I must repeat myself since you refuse to listen. Stubborn as a mule, you are – and ever ready to break your mother's heart. From now on, from this day forth, I expect you, Thor, to put all your energy into your studies – and to givefull attention while you attend to matters of the Court. Your mother spoke to me of the need to revisit lessons on the small courtesies expected..."

Odin's quiet voice drifted off into the quiet night of Asgard, drifting off in the light breeze. There was nothing in the Realm to hear but the wind and the soul of all which binds life together on golden Asgard. It drifted through the forests and mountains where the shadows shifted down to the edges of the great city. A world filtered in the ghostly moonlight of ragged night clouds.

**[... this is how kings are made...]**

**[... some through lessons...]**

**[... some through trials...]**

**[... some through revolt...]**

**[... like iron and gold forged in the blacksmith's fire, great kings of legend are born through adversity...]**

In the mists of time, when the world was young, the Sages once told of two great Jotunn warriors who clashed their horns and met in battle on the eternally flat, black and pale green Holkn Vollr. The plain, as legends say, was the great stage for a meeting of might which would change the face of Jotunheim itself. Was glorious combat sought for a mate? For a throne? For honour? None can say – but out of the battle of magic and strength, the Holdra River was carved where it streamed across the plains from the Vollrvatn.

To the south of that great River, the ancient city of Meerauk rose – splendid and fair on the plains of the Holkn Vollr. Since the ages of old, the ancient capital has remained desolate – yet sacred, for it is the wellspring of the Jotunn and holds the origin of the Rites of the Court. Mysterious inscriptions lined its high crumbling lines in ancient, forgotten tongue – speaking of what? No one knew for certain.

As his Father and his Ancestors had done before him, Crown Prince Helblindi, head down, trudged in the face of the massive storm born on the cruel winds which swept across the Holkn Vollr. He followed in silence behind his Father on the long trek to Meerauk, left alone, as was tradition, with his own thoughts.

These were the beginning of the Rites which would one day prepare him for the Throne and give his Father freedom to return to the For-Eldra, to the snows, to the Ancestors. The Rites Of The Throne began in Silence and ended with Attainment. It was a lonely time, a lonely place, a lonely existence.

_I guess_, Helblindi sighed, _that is what Kingship is... It is power, but it is responsibility. It is being united to all – and yet..._ Helblindi's eyes rose to inspect his Father's strong, unyielding back. _It is loneliness. It is being the Mother of everyone... and of no one._ The Crown Prince shivered at the memory of the brother he had almost long forgotten. The brother who was lost. The brother of whom no one spoke. The brother who should have been walking across the Plains behind Laufey-King. Helblindi stared ahead into the solid wall of white snow and saw nothing but a field of grey and white and red, a block of ice with spirals of magic from a set of absurdly small hands. When Meerauk eventually loomed – its grand black walls, stark and clean against the gloomy skies – Helblindi knew that it was now or never. He stepped forward. _Goodbye, little brother_, he thought as he passed through the ever-open gates. _Now this is my burden_, Helblindi straightened into the wind, chin set in determination. _The Throne is mine – as it should be – and I will carry our glory onward. _

Meerauk was silence, but Helblindi would be strong. It was his time.

**[... like iron and gold forged in the blacksmith's fire...]**

* * *

**There you go - awesomeness in a box. Or something like that. I hope.**

**Thor is around 20-22, Loki around 19-21. XD**

**Author's Note on Sif and the Warriors Three: Some folks have been voicing some worry/interest/concern about why Sif and the Warriors Three aren't getting along with Kol'la. I have a few things I feel I should point out.**

**#1 - remember what I said about unreliable narrators... Kol'la's point of view is biased. Do not trust him! It's like believing what Harry thought about Snape all through books 1-6. **

**#2 - think up your own reasons why they would dislike Kol'la - and use the movie as a springboard. Why don't they like Loki from the very start of the Thor movie? Well, he was a trickster and young and different and a bit of a douche and not very trustworthy as a whole and had a history of being jealous of Thor. In this fic, it's probably for similar reasons and add to the fact that he's still "new" and an "immigrant" and has no apparent respect for Thor and appears to have his own agenda. I'd also like to point out that Thor (who does many things but isn't a liar) says that Kol'la has gotten them all in trouble before... so Kol'la is also a bit of a douche.**

**#3 - just because people don't like the main character of the story doesn't make them evil or bad. I actually don't see the previous chapter as being a sign necessarily of hate or intense dislike... they are young people - teens - who have emotions that come and go and they say dumb things and don't mean what they say all the time. Loki is hypersensitive, the others are the total opposite... so we just have a lot of fuel for arguing. It's like what happened between my sisters and brothers and I. We blackmailed each other intensely as kids/teens, ratted each other out, broke each other's things and did lots of crap - but if there was a common enemy, we banded together pretty quick. **

**#4 - I also think that because Thor treats Kol'la with less respect, the others take their cue as well. My main beef in the movies is that they are groupies and are all about Thor - with no real apparent care for Loki himself. (They get up to all sorts of nonsense in the movie which annoys me no end. They are NOT good friends for Loki, much less Thor, IMO.) The fact that Loki initially hides his blue arm from his friends, his sibling and his parents, speaks to me of vast broken relationships - and of course, in this fic, that is even easier to imagine because this Loki knows better than to believe that they'll accept him.**

**I hope this makes sense! In order to help everyone, I added a small scene to the front of this chapter and I hope that it creates a bit of something else... another picture of another facet of Kol'la's relationships.  
**

**Update in 5 or 6 days or so... and I hope you guys like this!  
Let me know! Be sure to comment!  
-KI**

Numbers (for this quadrant):

0 - nai  
1 - sa  
2 - tho  
3 - frei  
4 - ah  
5 - ko  
6 - yul  
7 - vee  
8 - mah  
9 - lei

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	35. Shadows At Noon

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to all the lovely people who are faving, following and, most of all, reviewing! I'm feeling really encouraged - which I need, since I've been hitting a few writer's blocks on a couple scenes... and I've got my plate full with most of my private tutoring starting up again and in a week or two, my oral English classes will start... . So yeah... things could potentially slow down as I get into the rhythm of school again. **

**A big shout out to my reviewers: BlackStarChan, Winter Cicada, Ireland Ranger, DragonsFlame117, wbss21 and ClaMiAl! And also to NX-Loveless-XN for reviewing stuff as she read through my fic. Bless you guys!**

**And stuffs happen in this chapter~! A bit longer! We start to see a rhythm of life, I hope! And... what is that ahead... a barrier of rocks that go straight down...  
**

**Also be sure to check out my profile for more important stuff - like a new map of Asgard to peer at... a Siroyaniu, etc. XD**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 35  
Shadows At Noon

"I just..."

_Don't know what to do_, Kol'la finished Thor's unspoken admission in his head, knowing that between them such things could not be said, could not be voiced into the hot summer's air. _Even after all our time together_, Kol'la thought, _even then – there is always this... this gap between us, this eternal damning inequality. And so, in the end, he will be alone – as all kings are, as is Tradition – this is the way of things..._

Kol'la, for a moment, allowed himself to remember another great throne in an ancient hall, long disused and Elska's hints and mutterings from which he had gleaned the Truth. _If Elska was right_, Kol'la thought bitterly as he heaved a heavy load of hay from the cart in the corner over the edge of the stable door's high wall and into the manger of some courtier's mare, _that burden could have fallen upon me... and I would have borne it well – if only to prove to..._

He balked at the mental thought of the taboo word:_ father_. The word Kol'la had never used – never would use – and the chance for acceptance which had long since died on white plains before the black gates of a desolate city.

_I just don't know what to do._

Thor could not admit it and some dark part of Kol'la smirked at the increasingly frequent look of befuddlement on Thor's face during more recent days as the Crown Prince found himself moving from the role of 'watchful observer' to 'active participant' regarding Court matters.

A silence then descended between the two as Kol'la patiently waited for the Prince to speak his mind. Flies buzzed in the thick, warm sunlight of the mid-afternoon. Several birds chirped and at the door, a gaggle of geese honked abrasively as a small hound pup attempted to herd them. Horses stamped, shifted, nickered and whinnied in their respective, spacious stalls. Beyond the back door of the grand Royal Stables the sounds of a scolding cook clashed with the return derision of the grocer boy. Several stable-hands walked by, alone and in pairs with bits of harness, bridles or other riding gear in hand, every one of them busy. None stopped, for they knew better than to infringe on the conversations between the Crown Prince and his favoured friend.

Kol'la finished tending to his last horse while Thor leaned against a stack of hay, seated upon a pile of bales. His blue eyes glared up at the ceiling – and for a moment, Kol'la wondered if he would actually find out what was bothering the young Prince – but then Thor groaned, rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"I grow tired of Court these days," he began his usual complaint. "As usual, the bickering of aged witless men goes on apace – and Father allows all manner of foolishness to arise – particularly between the Court of Lords and the Court of the Mages. As if those who merely dabble in tricks should have a say in matters of state and war."

_War?_ Kol'la snorted to himself. _We are not at war._ His green eyes flickered over the blonde warrior shrewdly. _And that might be the problem... for young men raring to find a chance for honour and glory desire, above all things, a chance to prove themselves in battle._

"But Father says I must learn how to handle all manner of things – and that includes mediating such small matters." Thor eyed Kol'la as the green-eyed stable-hand folded his arms with a familiar disgusted look. "What now?" he sighed, then heaved himself onto his feet. "Come, Kol'la," Thor smiled quickly, banishing the dread subject, "the sun shines and I asked Commander Farfin and he told me you were free for the rest of the day until after supper – so I thought –"  
"No."  
"Kol'la!"  
"I said 'no', Thor," Kol'la shook his head, divesting himself of his rough leather apron and smoothing out his course, green tunic.  
"What are your plans – that you would say 'no' before hearing -"  
"Thor," Kol'la replied smoothly, "how long have we known each other? No. Do not answer that. It is a rhetorical question to which we both know the answer. Furthermore, in all our time together, these many years, how often have I gotten in trouble thanks to some misbegotten plan of yours or the misadventure of fate when in your company? Compare the promise of accidents, maiming, punishment and injury to the promise of learning and bettering oneself. Now," Kol'la raised a finger, over-riding a sound of protest from Thor, "use what little sense you hold to divine what would better my lot for this free time given to me."  
"Very well, I understand not wishing to come to harm," Thor sighed. "Although the Norns know that you have brought equal amounts of injury on your own head – and may I remind you, mine as well." Kol'la smiled quickly then – a sharp, cruel thing but full of amusement – and Thor grinned back, before shaking his head puzzled, "but... learning?" He asked with disgust, grimacing. "Again?"  
"Again?" Kol'la returned with a short laugh. "Why do you show surprise? Every time, Thor, this is how it goes – since the beginning -"  
"It is because it is madness, Kol'la. To spend so much time with one's head in one's books... Reading... writing all those arcane words of yours in those treasured notes... the tricks you learn to weave. I swear, one day, I'll return and find you wearing the blue and white livery of a Mage's apprentice!"

Kol'la turned away at Thor's familiar refrain, face stony, mouth set in a thin, hard line. Jerking his worn leather satchel off a nearby hook and pulling on a rather ugly, but practical, battered brown hat – the better to protect him against the hard light of the sun – he made his way around Thor and outside. Behind, Thor followed, voice raised in continuous protest. As was his wont, Kol'la ignored him – but unlike the usual (Thor giving up when they arrived at the Archives' doors), both halted at the sound of a familiar alarm.

With the dull clang-clang of the main watch tower's bell, the quiet large courtyard erupted into chaos. Courtiers, advisers, clerks and various Lords spilled out in bustling mass from the Great Hall. Stable-hands, stable boys, messengers and lower staff scurried about as various warriors and commanders began to bawl out orders. Someone arrived on a frothing, sweating horse and was ushered into the tight ring of commanders and generals now grouped on the top of the stairs around Odin All-Father.

Kol'la, ignoring the stray curses sent his way as various men blundered past him, jostling him roughly, enjoyed the chaotic jumble – the mad energies which swirled about stirred up by emotion and the maddening call of war. And in the middle, he couldn't help but marvel at it – _in the middle, he stands ever so calmly – Odin All-Father, the eye of the storm._

"Kol'la!" It was Thor. Again. "Kol'la! You idiot! Whatever are you standing there all agape for?" It was Thor, miraculously enough, already astride his personal favourite – and in his hands the long slender reins to Kol'la usual hack. "Come now! They are not going to wait about all day!"

Wordlessly, Kol'la turned about and, catching Commander Farfin's annoyed gaze, noted the subtle nod. He could almost hear his superior's disgusted sigh, but Kol'la also knew Farfin would be slightly pleased and rather relieved that at least Kol'la was showing more desirable inclinations – hunting and battling rather than studying and experimenting. Not a day went by without a rather snide remark or mild aspersion was cast upon Kol'la's propensity for magicks and seithr.

_Not today_, Kol'la grinned bitterly, disappearing into the nearby stable to find his personal cubby-hole in the room where the stable-hand weaponry was often stashed. Returning to his waiting horse with his arms in hand and cheap armour quickly buckled on, Kol'la gracefully mounted, taking up the slack of the reins, and gently guided his horse, Snjar, with the usual quiet clicking of his tongue. Within moments, the first and second companies left, joined by Thor, Kol'la and a group of younger warriors and mages, including Sif and the Warriors Three.

_All of whom, we could've done without_, Kol'la though sourly, watching Fandral lean forward to unclasp an unwitting Mage's Apprentice's saddle girth strap. _Less of these hot-blooded young fools and more experienced soldiers such as General Tyr._ As they moved past the courtyard's main gate, the slender, black-haired stable-hand glanced back at the tight knit group of generals now waiting for their mounts. _I am surprised General Tyr isn't leading these companies_, Kol'la mused. _What has the All-Father planned?_

"What happened?" asked Sif. "Bandits? Slavers?"  
"Bandits, apparently – who are using some strange creatures from another Realm – to devastate the area no doubt – but no man can besmirch the name of Asgard and live," boasted Thor, grinning at Kol'la who just quirked his eyebrow in amusement.  
"And with that," Kol'la declared, "we are now condemned men. And women," Kol'la added with another quick, sharp smile. "I did not see you there, Sif."  
"The sun blazing from your new halberd must have blinded the poor boy," Fandral laughed at Sif who tried to ignore them.  
"Well, he can hardly expect me to save him from his sad handicap," Sif retorted dryly. "It is Volstagg's turn to carry him home this time after all."  
"I hardly -"  
"Come now, children," Volstagg said heartily. "I thought it was obvious that as token woman for this rag-tag bunch, Sif would be the comforting bosom -"  
"Why me? I -"  
"What bosom?" asked Kol'la acidly, interrupting Sif's protest. "I've seen more curves on a pine tree – and with less bristles -"  
"Oho! The Silvertongue has emerged!" Fandral crowed, gloating at the glower on Sif's face.  
"Unfortunately," Hogun sighed.  
"Ha ha ha," laughed Thor breezily, his laughter wrapping around the group, smothering the sharp stings of hard words and submerging the everlasting tension with his usual oblivious serenity and good humour. "Come now, you two! It is a grand day – a sunny day – and it is promising us glorious battle with something other than bilgesnipe or wild boar. Smile, Kol'la! And do not look so heated, Sif!"  
"If he remains silent," Sif replied sulkily, "then so will I."

Kol'la refused to reply to her and contented himself with planning her demise at the victory banquet to which she no doubt would be invited after the quest. _It would serve her right_, Kol'la thought coldly, _and remind her of what I am capable._

**[…onward they trod...]  
**  
**[…in the face of danger...]**

A clement wind blows from the upper ranges of the mountains, bringing with it the promise of rain some days or, on others, the hint of freshly fallen snow. Summer winds blow cool from the Storrfjall Mountain and in the warm winters, the breezes may shift, swirling round from the southern side of the Realm and bringing a warm touch – a promise of spring.

… _**they have come...**_

… _**arise and bring me my vengeance, Asgard...**_

… _**these interlopers will never see the sun set again...**_

Kol'la, as he rode forth on Snjar, shivered at the insidious wind which tugged on the red and gold pennants and at the gaily coloured rosettes and ornaments which hung from bridle and harnesses. The Spirit of Asgard was uneasy and impatiently pulled the warriors onward.

**[…listen carefully to the wind of Asgard...]**

**[…it is not wild and desolate but it is fierce and strong...]**

**[…it calls for blood...]**

**[…it desires, above all things, glory and power...]**

This was summer, when the fields lay thick and green and tantalizing. As the First and Second Company and Thor and his friends descended upon the bandits who had had the temerity to attack the Ageless Realm, the warm wind rustled through vegetable and fruit laden tree boughs and plant stalks. Thick fruity scents hung in the thick, humid air between the Valleys further inland and away from the refreshing tang of the sea air. Apparently the bandits had moved inland to the center of the Westfold, proving themselves to be rather mighty foes – and a perfect challenge for the Crown Prince.

Cursing fluently in All-Speak as he watched Thor disappear into the midst of the bandit group roaring with excitement and blood-lust, Kol'la began to summon a strong working best used for times like these. The bandits, a mixed lot of aliens from Skrull and Ugora, had brought with them two Si'ro'yaniu, stone-lava beasts better suited to Realms such as Muspelheim. Standing several heads taller than the tallest warrior there, the two usually docile animals now charged back and forth across the fields, sowing destruction every which way they went.

_Si'ro'yaniu..._ Kol'la, letting the others dash forward, wondered at the rare sight before him. _Si'ro'yaniu... the fire bulls of the planet Yujin._ Watching a pair of careless warriors fall under the wide hooves of the great beasts which towered over their heads, Kol'la sighed. The Si'ro'yaniu were peaceful beasts usually – living in large herds, traversing great distances over the lava-striated ash-scapes of their home planet, Yujin (or other similar planets). Dwelling in the shadows of the ever active volcanoes, these stone-lava beasts used their great horns to scrape through the newly laid piles of snowy ash to find the hardy red hohwa, fire-flowers, and to split open the still soft piles of lava, which they ate and drank. Gentle creatures, very old and wise – and often domesticated by other volcanic planet-based communities, the Si'ro'yaniu were raised for tough supple-stone hides perfect for armour and nutritious lava-milk which was enjoyed by the Stone-people.

_They should not be here_, Kol'la's hands twisted again as his original intention changed with anger at what the bandits had done. He had seen this before in the Battlehouse – creatures brought for game fighting, angry and scared beyond all reason – and mad for freedom. _They were not meant for this and, having tasted blood and battle and the unreasoning call for hate and vengeance, will never be able to go back home._

He understood. Understood too well.

"Thor!" Kol'la bellowed. "THOR!"

Turning, the Crown Prince absently grasped his hammer as it returned to him and he caught Kol'la's eye over the long distance between them. Kol'la nodded and let loose his magicks which snaked forward and sank into the earth, creating an instant soft ground which sank under one Si'ro'yaniu, trapping it easily as a marsh. At that, Thor's Mjolnir flew through the air, hit the front plate of the head right between the eyes – and the young bull toppled over, squashing several of its Skrull handlers.

Kol'la silently watched it fall.

He understood. A spear in a still chest. So much blood spilled in desperation on the sands of the arena. _One day_, Kol'la thought as his eyes traveled over the still, rough black hide of the slain Si'ro'yaniu. The now unmoving sleek vicious horns which had been honed to unnatural, lethally sharp edges. The usual patterns of red lava beneath the cracks of hide slowly dying as it cooled from the inside out. _One day the Void will take me as well. One day..._

The other Si'ro'yaniu was still off in the distance, it's deep voice raised in a bawl of terror and anger. Kol'la found himself distracted as several insect-humanoid Ugora with tattooed grey carapaces raced his way. Deftly twirling his spear, Kol'la skewered two before he found himself on the defensive. Hogun's throwing stars landed in the skull of one bandit who had gotten close enough to drench Kol'la with foul breath before dying. Thankfully. There were a few more breathless moments and when he found some time to look about him, Kol'la discovered that Thor had gotten himself pinned between a few too many bandits.

Beyond Sif was yelling something – several commanders were rallying the men in a vain attempt to bring down the last Si'ro'yaniu - Volstagg was down on the ground hollering about getting a medic this instant – a few courtiers were left, fighting back to back – Hogun and Fandral were attempting to battle their way to Thor's side unsuccessfully – the young Apprentices had... _where were they?_ Kol'la knew that far too many Aesir lay dead for his liking. _This is impossible_, Kol'la thought, _for these to be so strong – something dark must be at work here... but what?_

The lean warrior-mage tore away from the last of his opponents – literally – for Kol'la had twisted off the Skrull's arm and thrown it away carelessly before gutting the rabid creature. Whipping about, Kol'la began to fight his way back to Thor's side, hoping he would make it in time. Thunder and lightning crackled again and again as storm clouds formed and bolts of lightning descended. And above it all, Thor's voice rang out – an unending roar of anger and power.

_The fool_, Kol'la thought incoherently, realizing that he wasn't going to make it in time. Pushing past others in his way, hair flopping irritatingly in his eyes, Kol'la's daggers appeared in his hands almost instinctively as he cut his way through anyone who tried to stop him.

"Thor!" he yelled, wishing he could move things with his mind. If he could banish Thor and push him – if he could move the idiot – if he could get his attention – if he could - "THOR! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF THERE!"

The Si'ro'yaniu was careening, now frothing red streams of fire at the mouth, obviously crazed with the noise of battle and ear-shattering explosions and the pain no doubt radiating from the various swords and picks which had gashed and sunk into its dark hide now bleeding streams of fire. Kol'la knew that it could only see the crimson tide of war and battle, that it fought for the plains of rock and red petals upon which it would never roam again.

He knew. He understood – but he could not stop this anymore than he could stop the disintegration of Time or the hunger of the Void.

It barreled down the slopes of the gentle hills, crushing green and brown beneath its hooves and the ground rumbled. Sif was screaming something about the generals – Kol'la could barely take a word in – the air thrummed – the Si'ro'yaniu bellowed, its deep bass rattling the bones. Great spiked hooves moved forward inexorably, driven from behind by three Skrull bearing electrostaves.

_Electrostaves_. For a moment, all he could see were the Slavers coming again. The Slavers and their bright lights descending, the Jotunn scattering in every direction, babies crying. _Time_, he gasped to himself. _I need time. What do I do?_ Then it came to him. _A risk... but worth it._ Kol'la lunged forward, hands finding the ground as he began the swift-acting working again, the soil shifted beneath his feet as the shock wave spread forward answering his call.

**[… Asgard howled...]**

**[… who is this who dares call on the golden powers that be...]**

**[… who are you...]**

**_How dare you, Other-Soul?_**

The ground rippled and the Si'ro'yaniu stumbled forward, missing Thor and the swaying Ugaro and Skrull, it barreled into the rock wall behind the Crown Prince. Thor fell forward onto his knees, stunned by a side blow as some scattered rocks fell from above. Kol'la began to run forward but at the sight of the Si'ro'yaniu's feet beginning to find footing once again, he fell to his knees, placing his hands on the ground, and called on the forces which lay within him. The dreaded power – the ability which he abhorred yet needed: ice.

Ice ran outward and Kol'la hoped that no one would see the tell-tale tinge of blue to his fingertips as he attempted to retain his Aesir coloration. Cold blue and white surged forward – foreign and surprising, washing upward in a great wave as his magicks and the spirits of the universe pressed inward and down. Waves like glass rushed upward and froze, killing Skrull and Ugaro where they stood and then, finding the feet of the Si'ro'yaniu, hardened, keeping it still in its tracks.

There was no world but his own – a world of wondrous colour. His eyes were filled with the spangles of red and gold, the fiery spirals of Asgard's soul, twining in some incredible, miraculous way with his own blue and green tendrils. Pain suddenly radiated from his lower back and stomach. The last tide of ice, which now reached up to the scarred withers of the beast, stopped suddenly as his arm snapped under the unexpected weight of an iron-clad foot.

A cry. His own voice – unrecognizably hoarse.

Kol'la turned – it was difficult to see underneath the shadow of the great beast which loomed up beside him. He turned – and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hogun and Sif managing to drag Thor away, leaving behind Mjolnir – and in front of him – Kol'la looked up. He looked up – and there loomed a bandit, swathed in dark leathers and stylish technological armour, raising a bloodied electrostave. Blood seeped outward from his own bent armour, spilling from his stomach about his knees in a large puddle. He had been stabbed. He had been stabbed? Kol'la had no time to consider the matter. Sweeping the end of the electrostave to the side and then down, the masked bandit dealt Kol'la such a blow that it sent him sprawling sideways and down onto the soft ground. It took the dark-haired young one a few moments to struggle to his elbows. As he managed to raise himself with one arm, Kol'la cursed the arrogance of his opponent who so calmly paced about him, no doubt rejoicing in the stable-hand's weakness.

_I am not weak_, Kol'la set his jaw in determination as he continued to attempt to pry himself up, disregarding the darkness which was now rapidly encroaching on his vision. He could feel blood coursing down the side of his face – his right arm - his fighting arm was horrifically numb - but Kol'la ignored it as he looked up. Up the long spear and met frightful blankness in reflective eyes. _A soulless thing_, he thought disjointedly. _A walking Void._ The young Jotun would have laughed at the unexpected appropriateness of his fate. _I was destined for the Void – and it has come for me... as my dreams foretold._

Cracking filled the air as ice creaked ominously. The electostave rose, flickering with white fire, and Kol'la bit back a cry as he tried to shift back – but found his left leg had not only been broken, but had been shattered in several places - and his right ankle throbbed warningly, making movement almost impossible. Almost impossible. _Almost._ He swayed back - where could he turn?

_**One more step, beloved – just one more step - **_

_**Once more - backwards – trust me...**_

Kol'la managed to inch back – and then -

There was nothing but fire and a ripping, roaring sound which rent the air in a high-powered jet of flame and light. Over his shoulder and upward, it filled Kol'la's narrowing vision – moving away from his line of sight, tearing through the head of the electrostave bearing bandit, and onwards, unstoppable into the very heart of the still bellowing Si'ro'yaniu, neatly beheading it as well.

_What –_ Kol'la thought, as darkness gathered in. As the ice gave way finally, as the Si'ro'yaniu toppled, as the shadows fell over him, _what... was that..._ He could see nothing – _no_ – he could see the light and fire ray disappearing and the blue-white wall now running with a thousand lines, fragile after all. There was black hide bursting through ice as the weight sagged – as fire red ran out – as the head tumbled forward – rocks rattled under the force of horns which dug into the wall, gouging scars into the very land to show what atrocity had happened there. Onward it fell, unstoppable in its momentum and Kol'la struggled – but his legs would not move.

_Move_, he thought, _move move move!_ Impossible. It was impossible. He could see black and blue and white and a spear in Toh's chest and a closed great black gate and wolves blotting out the moonlight. There was weight on his back, forcing him down painfully onto his arm – and pain filled his lungs – Kol'la's hearing was filled with nothing but the jerky gasps of his own heaving lungs – and he thrashed – only to find his legs had been trapped. He twisted about and found himself eye to eye with the Si'ro'yaniu's head now crushing his legs into the soft soil. It's dark brown eye was close - still open, now glassy and still. And empty.

_Like the Void_, Kol'la thought, stomach twisting sharply – the darkness was pulling downwards over his eyes like the shroud of ceremonial sacking over Elska's body before he was returned to the snows. _Perhaps_, he thought,_ in the end, that is all there is. We all return to it. It is what binds us all together._ Darkness was falling now - shadows wavering and turning - the sun setting - light fading - and his fingers quivered as his right hand rose to trail upward to the lightless eye. He wanted to say 'I am sorry', to say 'This is not your fault', to say something with meaning. To assure it, to assure himself that in the end, there was no blame to be laid at their doors. That it was understandable - His fingers stilled on the rough, black hide as unconsciousness finally claimed him.

_I understand._

* * *

**A CLIFFIE! BWAHAHAHA! (not really a cliffie really, but yeah...)**

**So sad. I hope some of you guys caught the metaphor that is the Si'ro'yaniu!**

**Let me know what you think!**  
**What happens next?**  
**DUN DUN DUN.**  
**(not really, I think you can guess who comes on in the next scene... if you use logic)**  
**-KI**

**Author's Note on Points of View:**

**I am always interested in certain scenes being shown from various points of view. Kind of like a director in a movie with how he shoots and uses the camera. You can tell the change of scene by breaks. The bold text in the parantheses may signal a change in point of view or the use of the "-0-0-0-". For example, the beginning of Chapter 34 began from Sif's point of view but shifted to others. We'll see the POVs of certain characters coming up (Odin, Frigga, Laufey, various Avengers, etc) - and we have seen others before. You can always double-check the point of view by whose thoughts are being voiced. I only voice one person's thoughts per scene. Hope this makes sense!**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	36. Ripples Of Change

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Wow! Thanks guys - for being patient and all. First day of school went OK, I think. . More people following this story and faving it! THANKS SO MUCH! Be sure to chat! I love talking about writing and the fandom!**

**Thanks to: Winter Cicada, Ellie, DragonsFlame117, Ireland Ranger, NX-Loveless-XN, wbss21, soupcan (welcome~!), ClaMiAl, Anarane Oronra (welcome also~)!**

**To Ellie: Thanks so much! I'm glad you are enjoying it!**

**And more plot happens~! What a plotty story this is! (death) I hope that we can seem some interesting sides to people in this chappie though! Lots of groundwork being laid for the "Thor"/"Avengers" stuff here! In a way...**

**BE SURE TO CHECK MY PROFILE FOR LINKS TO THE ASGARD MAP!**

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Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 36  
Ripples Of Change

_**Who we hold so deeply in our heart...**_

_**Who we watched from untimely birth...**_

_**Who carries all our hopes...**_

He struggled upward through dark waters, dark waters which weighed him down and pulled on heavy armour and the spear which hung limply from his hands, which fell now from unresponsive fingers, which plunged deeper below into dark. He could not speak, could not hear at first – but there was dark. Darkness fell.

**[...fell...]**

_**Wake, beloved, who has come so far...**_

**[...on Jotunheim...]**

A wide, seemingly eternal flat swath of land lay before him. He turned about slowly - it was the same from all sides - a vibrant field of green rising, running out to meet the sky of vivid of blue. Green and blue. _No_, he thought, _there are others... _Reds, purples, pinks, yellows.

Reaching down, he plucked absently at the blue-red bloom brushing against his ankle and, drawing the flower up, straightened to stare at the soft fragile stem in his fingers. His right hand rose to brush across the petals.

Inhale.

The air about him began to chill.

Exhale.

A buff of breath barely visible in the frozen air - he glanced down and saw it there in his hands - a crystallized flower - frozen beauty - he jerked - it fell - from nerveless fingers -

Inhale.

It fell.

Exhale.

It shattered into a thousand pieces. Even more - until it was naught but dust - like a ripple in a pond, the force disintegrated the now frozen world. Naught but dust - dust and fragments rising to meet a dead sky.

Inhale.

And below -

Exhale.

Below gaped the Void. Beneath his feet, it opened up and he was falling - He was falling, swallowed by the ancient enemy of his childhood nightmares: the ever hungry Void. It was empty, they had said in Utgard, empty and eternally starved for life.

_-itwasemptyitwasemptyitwasempty-_

However, they were wrong. It called to him. It said:

_You are mine._

**[...silence fell on Jotunheim...]**

Time passed, uncounted - and then the darkness eased. A smudge of something paler, a lightness, a grey towards which he moved instinctively. Dappled and moving and changing. Reaching upward, he tried to find his way.

_**Go, beloved... **_

_**Take what is yours!**_

_**You have never been so near as now.**_

_Elska?_ He thought hazily. _No... not Elska. Never him. Could not be...  
_

The grey spread and white pierced through, flickering and moving in random patterns as though he were floating beneath the surface of a lake and looking upward at the sun. His pale hand rose from his side as he turned to watch it. Long fingers reached out – and a hand emerged through the light to take his. With a gasp, Kol'la emerged.

**[...the in-between world is walked by those who sleep...]**

**[...the sleep of not-quite death opens those doors...]**

**[...and then, they are shut...]**

"What happened?"

A pause. Rustle.

"He will live. 'Tis but a broken arm - and the left leg is badly shattered. The bruises he gained in battle and the mild fracture of his ankle will fade. The ribs were damaged also, but those will heal... with time. The..." Another pause. "The lower wound from the -"  
"It was alien technology, Skrull, I think. Or Slaver. I was given no time for thought, for when we arrived on the battlefield, the bandits had already laid waste - and the boy was on his knees. Gugnir made short work of the attacker - and creature... Many years have passed since these hands have taken life with violence." A sigh. "These young ones still must struggle for peace..." A silence, then: "He looks too pale."  
"That is what worries me... for the weapon had plunged deeply and all the way through, and was extracted with great force, wrecking great damage on his internal..." A pause, then quieter. "And Thor -"  
"Thor is well?"  
"He is well."  
"Does he know?"  
"No."  
"It was a close thing."  
"Yes," Frigga whispered.  
"Very close," Odin repeated. "On all fronts for the both of them."  
"And?"  
"Nothing," Odin finally replied to her unspoken question. "Icame in time... and the truth is ours for the holding. We will say nothing."  
"You cannot think -"  
"Search your heart, dear one," was the old King's soft reply. "What does it tell you? What has your foresight seen?"

A long silence then and choked cry.

"This is... not right..."  
"No," Odin drew his wife into a close embrace, looking over her shoulder and down at the pale form of the young man once named Kol'la. "It was never right – from the beginning... but this is our chance to ease the ills the mistakes of Fate incurred upon us."

Frigga nodded against his strong shoulder. Times of change had come – for Thor, for the stable-hand, for all of them.

-0-0-0-

The Healing Halls of Asgard's Royal Palace, unlike the rest of the grand, golden and intricately decorated palisades, halls, rooms and passageways, soothed the soul with gentle blues and greens and little decor to overwhelm the eyes. Light curtains fluttered with the ocean breeze blowing off the Asgarthaharr, the Sea of Asgard. It was a cool wind carrying refreshment in the stifling heat of the Asgardian summer. Soothed by victorious battle, the wind of Asgard carried nothing but a serene song of golden grain, young cattle and fruit-laden orchards.

When Kol'la opened his eyes, his first glimpse was darkness slowly giving way, in reverse as it were of what he had last seen – as though he had woken up underneath a death shroud and even now was finding new life within. Fingers twitched as eyes recognized a familiar patterned interweaving knot in the high ceiling above him – the Healing Halls. Thanks to their misadventures, Thor and Kol'la both had visited this place for some kind of bandaging before.

_But never have we woken up here_, Kol'la mused. The warrior-mage sighed as he realized that Sif and the others would no doubt not let him forget that he had once again expended himself and proved his comparative weakness. _I am surprised that they are not here to make such jokes at my expense... Nor has Commander Farfin arrived to scold me – surely I was late for my duties._

With that thought, the stable-hand turned his head and attempted to raise himself to his elbows – and failed entirely, feeling even more drained than usual. Cursing softly, Kol'la tried again, this time managing to heave himself onto his side in a vain attempt to get his legs over the edge of the bed. One of the curtains behind him slid aside with a light rattle and Kol'la tensed as he realized that he had been caught by, no doubt, the ever feisty Healer Reitha or her incredibly strict attendent, Aerith.

However, instead of an instant barrage of high-pitched scolding, there was only a slight gasp – and before he could move, Kol'la found himself being gently pulled back into his previous position on the bed by an unfamiliar, well-kept hand. As he turned, Kol'la found himself face to face with the worried face of the Queen herself.

Her Highness Queen Frigga was, as ever, lovely and fresh-faced despite the time years had laid upon her. The Vanaheim heritage she bore, they said, had gifted her with more than youth but also innate grace and the gift of Sight. Golden hair ran down in a stylish, yet practical way, spilling over soft blue fabrics which swathed her shoulders. Below, a stylish peach-white girdle cinched a slender waist and then more blue spilled downward to meet the paving.

Struck dumb, Kol'la found himself instinctively following her unspoken orders as she laid him back on the pillows, propping him up only a little before clucking over him in an absent-minded way as skilled fingers ghosted over now red-stained bandages. Shaking her head, she sighed and then smiled as if remembering something – a memory, no doubt, of another time her husband or son had come to her for care. Carefully pulling the soft blue cotton of the healers' robes away, Frigga revealed a carefully applied bandage which had been wrapped about Kol'la's light-muscled, yet thin torso.

He found himself incapable of saying anything – he, Kol'la, who could find words for any occasion. It was frustrating to say the least. Something in his body's tension must have translated, for then the Queen looked up and her blue eyes met his.

Kol'la found himself unable to look away.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly, placing a hand briefly on his forehead, smoothing away unevenly cut black strands.  
"I feel... well... lady, I mean, Your Highness... I mean..." Unable to look away. Stammering. Like a fool. Kol'la wished he could bury himself, even in his pillows if need be. Dull heat flooded his face.  
"Just call me, Frigga," she smiled then as if he had said something meaningful. "All my dearest patients do... and truly, I am glad you have finally awakened."  
"How long -"  
"A good week. I am afraid to say -"  
"Oh no -" Kol'la paused as he realized he had just interrupted the Queen of Asgard. Green eyes rounded with fear and shame that he should show his poor manners so quickly. "I – I apologize -"  
"No, dear, I understand," Frigga's smile became, if possible, even bigger and brighter. Blue eyes twinkled as she mischievously added, "I was about to say that Thor has been a lost soul without you about."

Then she looked down and began to carefully unwind the bandaging. It was a difficult process and Kol'la found himself managing to prop himself up enough for her to pass the strips from underneath him more easily. Small squares of herb-packed poultices and various other patches were slowly revealed – now definitely stained crimson. When he finally was able to lie back, Kol'la allowed the room to steady about him, feeling a bit more dizzy and light-headed than he would like to admit. Meanwhile, the blood-soaked bandages were removed and new were laid upon the slowly healing wound – this time bound with a simpler fastener.

When she was done, the blue robe was drawn again over Kol'la's chest and the sheets were pulled up about his waist and tucked in quite tightly as if attempting to trap the young man back in the bed. Kol'la did not protest, but watched Frigga instead, closely, almost suspiciously as she disposed of the bandages and lined up a variety of potions he was to take in order to encourage the healing process. Various stones lay heaped up in a bowl on a far table with a stack of fresh bandages and other rare herbs and things usually stored for rather serious injuries.

"It was... it was bad?" He finally found himself able to ask and he coughed, throat a bit dry.  
"Well," Frigga's voice was a bit muffled as she hung up a bit of fresh towelling and then brought over a pewter cup of water for him to drink out of slowly. "Well, yes, it was... bad..." She sat down and helped him drink his fill and placed the cup by his bedside table, blue eyes glistening with something he did not wish to name. "We were... all very... concerned. Worried, for you were not responding to the regular treatments." A sharp glance here covered by another serene smile. "Perhaps it was the weapon, we cannot say..."  
"Thor – he is – he is well?"  
Frigga laughed and shook her head, "Yes, yes, I am afraid my poor lummox is doing much better than we would like. One would think that a concussion would at least slow him down a little – but he was so vehement about hunting down the rest of the bandits and -" Here, she sighed, "Odin All-Father had to calm him down a bit when he saw you lying in... well, there was much blood, apparently."  
"He stabbed me, I think. The bandit, I mean," Kol'la's fingers quivered over small pile of bandages on his stomach now hidden by robes and warm blankets. "From behind... I couldn't... I couldn't tell because of the moment – it was all so fast -"  
"Yes, that is what Odin told me," Frigga leaned forward to take Kol'la's slightly trembling hand in hers. "But it is over now – and thanks to you, my boy is safe. We are so proud of what you did."  
"It was just my -"  
"We thank you," Frigga's gentle voice cut through Kol'la's dismissive remark, "from the bottom of our hearts."

For a moment, they said nothing and then Kol'la nodded awkwardly, not certain of what he ought to do with his hand in hers. Part of him wished to pull away, another part of him - the young child from the Gothahus deep down inside yearned for her to remain.

"You are..." The young man struggled for the words. "Welcome."  
"Now, I would have you rest and I will sit and read some book that Thor brought for you. I brought my own, since my son said that you enjoyed reading above all, of which I heartily approve... Sadly, we will have to sample the delight that he selected - let us see what he got you – ah!" Here she laughed – a tinkling, magical sound – and Kol'la, eyes closed, revelled in the light laughter he had never heard before. "A treatise on the history of intergalactic piracy and the various technologies of bandits. A little too late if you ask me."

Kol'la grunted and coughed a little – the corner of his lips turning up in a reluctant smile and a well-hidden laugh. _A foreign thing, yet... not entirely unwelcome. _And, for the first time in his life, the abandoned child inside of him wondered if this was what it was like after all, if this was what the word Mother meant for those so blessed with them. _Like Elska_, he thought lazily, _but softer._

"Let us see. The first chapter is entitled 'Piracy From The Dawn Of Time'. Hm. That seems rather presumptuous at best, but nevertheless, onward we forge – it begins with – 'The origins of all things, as is usual, must begin with earliest -'"

-0-0-0-

Frigga's soothing voice lulled Kol'la into peaceful sleep. Rising silently, the Queen watched her newest, now-sleeping patient - still too-pale face tipped forward with recently washed and combed dark-hair curling around his ears. The green, sharp eyes were now hidden, but she would not forget what she had seen in them, pain, fear, uncertainty and an aching want. Her chest tightened at the thought of what had forged such a young man. She gazed at her hand, noting how his fingers had twined tightly with hers.

_No_, she thought wistfully, brushing away long dark strands from his smooth forehead and gently kissing it. Leaning back, Frigga took her seat again without reclaiming her hand. _He is here now... and I will not let him go. Not until... not until he has what he fears to need._

**[...and so something that was made which can never be unmade...]**

**[...and a bond was born...]**

**[...will never be broken...]**

There, in that cool, quiet world, the minutes and hours ticked by slowly and peacefully, interrupted only for short intervals by the outside world as represented by Thor and those who knew the quiet stable-hand.

Thor brought with him the smell of green grass, blue skies, warm sun and pungent sweat unleashed from gold armour and dark leathers. Sif and the others stood a few paces back, always, uncertain on what to say to the slender warrior who had, against all expectations, proved himself in a way none had done before. Nevertheless, Volstagg's young wife held no such reservations and in thanks sent along sweet pastries and other tasty food which were never given the chance to strain the young stable-hand's stomach thanks to Frigga's stringent dietary routine.

Commander Farfin came once as well, smelling of horse, straw, shat, well-treated leather and the odoriferous compost heap. The gruff man sat uneasily on the chair by Kol'la's bed, feet planted firmly apart, scratching his greying, wiry hair. He spoke of Kol'la's charges now given to a new stable-hand named Torna, who he thought was a complete waste of time – as usual for most beginners.

It puzzled Kol'la – that Farfin should speak of Kol'la the stable-hand in the past tense when he was so obviously there and more than willing to return. Yet, the young man said nothing and fell further silent as he contemplated the increasingly frequent times he had woken to find Odin sitting at the foot of his bed in the further chair, watching him sleep.

Odin All-Father was plotting something – that much was certain. _But what?_ Kol'la wondered.

A week later, Kol'la began to walk on his own two feet again to the relief of Thor. It was a good moment – to finally be free. _Free to go where?_ Kol'la wondered. _What do I do now?_

One night after the evening meal, the great door to the Healing Hall opened and when Kol'la's curtain slowly moved aside to reveal three mages and Odin, the almost healed patient suddenly understood. Calmly laying the book he had been lazily perusing aside, folding his hands and attempting to look wise and mature, Kol'la watched as Odin took the chair at the foot of his bed, as was his wont, and the other Mages arranged themselves about him: High-Mage Agaeti, Mage Hrotha and Mage Flarathir.

"We have come here this evening with the purpose of ascertaining the fitness of one so-named Kol'la to join the ranks of apprentice within the Mage's Court," High-Mage Agaeti's pompous voice paused and Kol'la found himself hard put not to burst out laughing at the incongruity of the entire situation.

_On the other hand_, he sobered up as he realized that Odin did look entirely serious and that the other Mages looked rather thoughtful as they surveyed him, _this appears to be happening for certain... and even though they do not believe the All-Father entirely, being the skeptical, power-hungry scholars they are, this is my opportunity show them – show the All-Father my worth._

Kol'la straightened a little and listened a bit more carefully as the High-Mage continued, "Furthermore, this has been mandated by Odin All-Father himself, Highest Mage of Asgard's Council of Mages, and so sponsored, Kol'la of Asgard, will you step forward to take the trials on such a time as when you have been fully recovered?"  
"I will," Kol'la replied quietly, lifting his chin to meet the High-Mage's piercing stare. "I will and thank you."  
"Very well," nodded the white-haired man. "We have heard and some apprentice's witnessed your abilities first hand in battle – and tonight, if possible, we wish to see a token of your seithr."  
"Here and now?"  
"Indeed," Mage Flarathir smiled then coolly. "Perhaps the task is too much for the boy, Agaeti – he does after all still look rather -"  
"I can do it," Kol'la's left hand twisted then and suddenly from the middle of his palm a flame of bright fire leaped and then quivered calmly and hovered there.  
"There you go," Hrotha smiled delightedly. "Just as Garyth told us! So natural and so quick! Wonderful!"  
"The boy will go far," Odin said as well just as Flarathir opened his mouth, no doubt to douse Hrotha's enthusiasm for the supposed boy-wonder. "He has a long way to go," blue eyes gazed at green measuringly, "but he will get there. Where he ought to be."  
"Pardon, Your Highness, but -" Agaeti paused as Odin raised a hand.  
"My wife has seen it also and this is the road we must all take. Together."

Kol'la said nothing, green eyes wide as the words sank in.

_...my wife has seen it...  
...this is the road we must all take...  
...together..._

Before he could say anything, Odin rose to his feet.

"Come, Agaeti. There is much to discuss before the night is over." The King paused and looked down at Kol'la, face still inscrutable and Kol'la tensed as the older man nodded. "Rest well – there is a long battle ahead of you."

And with that, they departed, leaving the hall silent, the perfect place for Kol'la to mull over the words spoken. The riddles. The hints. The promises that seemed to good to be true. Or were they warnings?

_...this is the road we must all take...  
...together..._

_Together_, he thought, watching the candlelight flicker softly on the ceiling overhead. _At least... at least..._ Kol'la drifted off to sleep slowly. _At least I will not be alone..._

**[...this is the road we must all take...]**

**[...together...]**

**[...it starts here...]**

**[...as it did under empty skies...]**

**[...the empty skies of Jotunheim...]**

**[...they are waiting...]**

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**There we have it. Another step for Kol'la to take. Another step... closer to Loki. Loki is coming in Chapter 40! (Or not... since I've had to insert a couple of chapters. Ugh.)  
**

**A few things to note:**

**1. Part of this chapter - the Frigga/Loki scene was so hard to write... It'd be great to hear feedback on it. ****Let me know what you think! (Even if it's just to say, "COOL!" or "WHAT IS THIS SHITE?!"**  


**2. If you have fanart for this fic or something like that, be sure to give me a shout so I can spam on Tumblr and FFNET and elsewhere. XD**

**3. Be sure to check out the sketches and maps and fanart for this fic on my profile page! (scroll down)**

**4. Question time!  
**

******Q: Is Loki a shape-shifter in this tale?  
Author's Note: IMO, if you watch "Thor", you see baby!Loki hold onto Odin's thumb and then shift his skin colour. I don't think Odin put the glamour on him (as he does in some stories/myths/comics), but that Loki is himself a shapeshifter of a certain level naturally, which could increase with power and effectiveness if he practiced. If you cast your memory back to those "good ol' days" on the mining colony, we see his first shape-shifting abilities when he changes his skin. However, I would say that his shape-shifting ability IS STILL linked to his magic, so with an immense loss of magic or coming into contact with his homeworld magic (using ice or the Casket) would cause him to revert to his Jotun colouring. I hope this makes sense!**

**Update in 5 days or so~!**

**See ya round!-KI  
**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium


	37. What Seasons May Bring

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

A few things. Exciting things!

**First, as usual! A HUGE THANKS to people who chatted and reviewed my last chapter! I'm so encouraged! Thanks to Lady Ray Ray, DragonsFlame117, Winter Cicada, ClaMiAl, Ireland Ranger, wbss21, Guest (welcome~!), MikoHatome, FrostElfSlytherin (hi~)!**

**To Guest: I'm not sure about Mystique - in the movies, it seemed like she was regulated to humanoid shifting - but I think my Loki could eventually (not yet) shift into other things. We'll see... I'm glad you are cool with his shape-shifting abilities. They don't get a lot of mention but they are there. XD Maybe I'll have to mention it in another fight scene or something... Hmmm... You've given me brilliant ideas...**

**Second, be sure to check out my profile. Thanks to merichuel on Tumblr, we've got a new picture of Ulfrbarn! Really awesome! **

**NO, SERIOUSLY, CHECK IT OUT.**

**Third, have you seen Tom Hiddleston with Cookie Monster? DELAYED GRATIFICATION! (that's what my writing style is all about~!) (haha) But man... I wanted to be Cookie Monster, literally oozing all over Tom Hiddleston's arm. (sigh)**

**A bridge kind of chapter - but with some important info in it! Keep an eye out!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 37  
What Seasons May Bring

**[...summer gives way to autumn...]**

**[...green turns to gold and red...]**

**[...and then the winter comes...]**

**[...white, marching down the mountainsides...]**

**[...thus, seasons pass...]**

**[...and time...]**

In some ways, everything had changed. No longer did Kol'la rise before the sun under aged wood rafters among the rising heat and stink of horses and alongside the other unwashed, disgustingly cheerful stable-hands – stable-hands content with their lot in life and never raising their eyes to the beckoning horizons.

**[...to the busy skies of Asgard...]**

**[...the Great Blue calling...]**

No longer did Kol'la work with the large, gentle mares and feisty stallions of the King's Royal Stables. No longer did Commander Farfin bellow his name in his usual annoyed growl, which often held undertones of good-humoured long-suffering.

No, all this had passed. Time had brought change, wrought change.

No longer was Kol'la clad in the standard course brown, black and green cloth of the stables, but now he wore, daily, the blue and pale creams of the Apprentice's uniform. There was a dark black stocking cap, the blue and pale cream tunic over top a cream undershirt with blue interwoven armlets and below, black breeches with polished black, knee-high boots. Over top and across his blue-clothed chest, Kol'la slung a small satchel, perfect for storing herbs, stones or small notebooks, and a smaller dagger scabbard attached to his slender set of leather belts hung at his other side.

Time brought a later wake-up call – a quieter one as the far away clang of the Bell rang out, announcing breakfast. Passing through the quadrants and the great, grey halls, there was only the quiet shuffle of feet and the sonorous chanting of various higher level Acolytes as they tended to the straight rows of flourishing herbs and plants under their care. Songs of blessings and melodies of tender workings which encouraged the flowers and greenery to grow to their fullest potential.

Time brought Kol'la better meals, finer clothing and more intelligent company, as teachers and fellow Healers, Acolytes and serious-minded Apprentices welcomed the newcomer into their fold – carefully yet warmly. The Mage Archives was the regular haunt of Kol'la, the quiet spot where he browsed the rare scripts of spells and various workings long recorded by mages before. The halls too encouraged thought as men and women congregated in dimly lit corners, voices appropriately hushed as they discussed various theories on what transpired during some spell or on the particular workings of some herb or crystal. On rare occasions, a sharp voice rose in heated debate – and echoed along the arched halls and pillars – and then, all conversation would cease as heads would turn to peer at the one who had disturbed the peace.

Upon inhaling the familiar, musky scent of ancient scripts and well-tended books, at first Kol'la thought that he had finally arrived in the place he could call home. _This is it_, he had sighed to himself with pleasure as long fingers trailed over the worn books neatly ordered upon the long bookshelves. However, as time passed on, Kol'la began to slowly realize that in some ways, things had never changed at all.

The Aesir remained, as always, uninterested in expanding their magical arts. As Kol'la searched through the various tomes, revelling in ancient knowledge from the Nine Realms and beyond, the young scholar came to realize that his fellow classmates showed no such interest. None of them seemed to be inspired by or excited about the practical side of spell-casting: shields, summoning, projection of self and the enforcement of will upon material things. Bound by the standards of the King's Court, the Mages were consistently placed in limited positions of power, unable to show their true strengths – and happy, for the most part, to remain thus.

Once again, Kol'la found himself defending his studies against Thor's careless words. Several times, they came to blows in and out of the arena. Within the arena constrained by Asgard's stifling strictures, the battles rarely ended well for Kol'la, reminding him once again how easy it was to fail oneself and the expectations of others. After one such exchange, Kol'la tore away from his close friend and stormed off into the heart of the Mage's Court, the largest archives with handy corners within which to hide, the place he knew Thor could not penetrate. There, within the comforting silence, hours seemed to pass by like years.

**[...and so time passes...]**

**[...but some things never change...]**

**[...the world immutable...]**

**[...eternally golden Asgard...]**

"Your studies..." Odin's voice broke into Kol'la's thoughts one early evening, jolting the young, dark-haired Apprentice out of a particularly focused look at a treatise about the Ways, the Hidden Paths between the worlds. Aged fingers wandered over the dark maroon, blue and black covers of the books which Kol'la had laid out, opened to various chapters on long-distance travel through the Void. The single, weary eye flitted over the words and the old King's fingers traced the page lightly. "These are..." He trailed off.

Kol'la rose cautiously, green eyes watching the powerful older man – the one called Odin All-Father, who stood before him in simple dark leathers and little decorations in the way of gold. It was a relaxed look and was nowhere near as bright and glorious as the armour the Asgardian King usually wore in his Court. White hair fell over broad shoulders and an equally well-groomed beard fell neatly down to the All-Father's chest.

"Agaeti is an aged man," Odin sighed and started again. "We are all aged men." He nodded and then shook his head. "As time passes, as I watch my son grow tall and wiser with the years, I know it even more. We have aged and time demands we pass on what we know to those whose paths run into the future."

The young, dark-haired Apprentice did not reply, but, fingers flexing slightly over his notes as if protective of his ideas, he watched the King respectfully. A smile crossed Odin's face as he took in the wide-shouldered, well-set stance. Kol'la was not afraid as most would be in his position.

"Agaeti is an aged man," the King repeated, "and the young ones, such as you, are the ones to whom we look – your talents and skills are what Asgard needs... I knew that from the first day I saw you."  
"I am glad," Kol'la finally said, neutrally.  
"But you are not happy," Odin stated. "Not entirely."  
Kol'la hesitated, then admitted: "There are moments..." He paused, uncertainly.  
"Speak, son," Odin replied softly. "This will be for my ears alone."  
Kol'la nodded slowly and then reluctantly added, "There are moments when I feel the stifling heat of Asgard more strongly." Another pause. "More strongly than other days."  
"Yes. The burden of youth is freedom. The burden of age is responsibility." Odin circled about to take a seat opposite of where Kol'la had been sitting. Slowly Kol'la followed suit, green eyes never shifting from Odin's single blue one. "It is a difficult passage – for some of us, more difficult than others. There are days when I think of the future and wonder if it is as inevitable as my good wife believes, particularly in regards to my son. My son, who, I am to understand, has taken you into his confidences."

At those words, Kol'la's fingers slowly interwove together and settled with carefully constructed calm on top of the pages of notes before him. His gaze shifted to some place over Odin's left shoulder, eyes carefully blank and revealing nothing.

"I do not wish you to break that trust," Odin hastened to add. "Merely to take upon your shoulders a serious charge – which you may take as extension of my trust, for you have become a great practitioner of seithr and strategy, upholding my son during many of your... misadventures."  
"Your Highness -"  
"It is that you continue what you have started – to hold onto this kinship, to watch his steps when the path grows dark and to speak your mind as is necessary. To your own heart and commonsense, be true." The aged man caught Kol'la's eye and the younger man bit his lip before glancing down at the notes beneath his slender fingertips.  
"I feel you overestimate my abilities to affect your son -"  
"I feel I underestimate you more often than I should."  
"I am truly not -"  
"But I believe you are," Odin smiled encouragingly. "You have curbed many of Thor's excesses and have encouraged him to think a little before he acts."  
"Although, there have been many times I have not been successful -"  
"Yes," an indulgent smiled then, "more because you are also prone to mischief as well."  
"Perhaps," Kol'la replied grudgingly.  
"Nevertheless, it would ease this old man's heart to know that you will continue to stand at my son's side to the best of your abilities."  
"You trust me to be a friend?"  
"No," Odin said after a moment, his words measured and heavy as stones sinking into the serenity of the stillness between them. "No. I trust you to be a brother."

Kol'la's head jerked then a little, as if he had been burned and his fingers tightened a little around the feathered quill atop the cream papers. Green eyes widened, glistened and then grew distant as if remembering something.

"Brother," he finally said, neutrally, but the word was filled with a thousand unspoken questions.  
"Have you a brother?" Odin asked.

-0-0-0-

Inhale.

Brother. The word brought up a name almost immediately: Helblindi. Elska's few words spent on King Laufey and the Royal Family. _A faceless Mother, an unknown Father, and a brother – a brother I know._ He knew now – _a brother who could not be._ _Where there other brothers?_ He did not know. _Do not need to know. Or so I thought... Brother. Family. What was family but expectation and eventual disappointment? Surely that cannot be what Odin desires for Thor – unless I am the useful fodder, the necessary foil... Brother._

Exhale.

"A brother?" Kol'la's voice sounded distant and cold to his own ears. "No."

A silence. The candle flickered and Odin said nothing for a moment, but Kol'la did not amend his assertion. Odin nodded slowly and continued:

"I had two brothers – now I have but one..." A sigh. "Time is cruel..." Then: "They are what all kings need: a wife and family. What I have failed to give Thor."  
"In matters of love and... well..." Kol'la trailed off delicately, raising an amused eyebrow, "I would not be too concerned on marital matters concerning Thor."  
"No," Odin finally cracked a smile. "He reminds me of myself when I was his age. Impetuous, head-strong and too easily swayed by passion. No. It is the other matter. We never were able to give him a sibling, and so he is threatened with the lack of too necessary hard-headed counsel – and someone else to rely on besides whoever allows herself to become his wife."  
"He has many friends to rely on – I am..." Kol'la glanced away and then down to his hands and the variety of colour in the feather. "I am no one."

The feathers brushed and then crinkled among his fingers as an older, stronger, callused hand laid on top of his, a warm heat. Kol'la stared blindly down at the King's hands now clasping his. He opened his mouth – and his fingers trembled as he considered pulling away, but Odin's grip tightened just a little as if in reassurance and command.

"Now... that," Odin's voice broke the heavy silence with a quiet murmur, "is a lie."  
"I have no one – I am no one," Kol'la stubbornly repeated.  
"You have my son's love and loyalty, you have yourself. No matter what name you bear, there is only one of you, and the flow of magicks around you testify to the importance of your existence."  
"Your – the Queen, she has – she has seen it," Kol'la said bluntly, a bitter smile crossing his face. "Seen the uses Asgard may have -"  
"No," Odin swiftly cut in, "well, yes, there will be good for us – but your star shines just as brightly."  
"So it is a treaty then. An agreement. An alignment."  
"If you must see it as such," Odin sighed, "then yes."  
"To be a... brother..."  
"It is our dream for the both of you – to grow together and use what has been given to you to bring peace to the Nine Realms."  
"A nameless wanderer and a Prince," Kol'la smiled bitterly. "I think the Nine Realms is in for a world of trouble."  
"Perhaps, but I have faith."  
"Very well."  
"You need not make such a heavy decision so quickly," Odin chuckled then, rising. "Think on it – and I will come another day -"  
"No," Kol'la rose as well, shoulders straightening and chin set with determination. "It seems clear to me."  
"A quick mind and strong intuition." Odin nodded. "Then I shall see you. Soon."  
"Sorry? I shall see you soon?" Kol'la blinked, puzzled.  
"For supper," the King smiled. "My wife will be delighted to have you join us." He clapped Kol'la's shoulder absent-mindedly as he passed. "You will not regret it – she will no doubt put some extra effort and make the pastries herself... quite delicious, I think. But then," his smile grew fond, "I may be biased."

With that, Odin left Kol'la standing there in the middle of the small alcove before his precious tomes and careful scrawl of notes and flickering candle which ran with white wax down the iron candlesticks. Standing there in silence – dumb-struck in deep thought, wondering what had really happened.

**[...and so time brings changes...]**

**[...even the Realm Eternal's constant Spirit is stirred...]**

**[...and the young folk strike out to find their fortunes...]**

**[...meet their fates...]**

Fall followed summer again, bringing autumnal colours of red and gold and orange and purple – and the hounds howled in the crisp, cool air as the foxes sped home through the bristly underbrush and icy cold rivers tumbling down from the mountains. Fields now full of ripe corn and wheat and orchards hanging thick with other delicious things were swiftly harvested. Magical spells for agriculture and other remedies for health kept the healers and alchemists busy – and Kol'la found himself embroiled in a particular spell for fire-based shields against wild wolves which could be easily erected by lower-level Apprentices for the benefits of the villagers living in the outer limits of the cities and towns.

Winter fell heavily – thick, white snow laying over the hard grown like a warm blanket. Kol'la enjoyed the cool air, often volunteering to take the necessary journeys out to the smaller towns of Harrborg and Villrborg in order to deliver various potions, remedies or create practical workings for the townsfolk. On those days, he took Snjar out, inhaling the sharp air, feeling more alive than ever. Revelling in the silences, Kol'la enjoyed the quiet quests out to the further reaches of Asgard. They were not usual quests such as Thor enjoyed – and if at times Kol'la left Asgard all together in his slowly expanding exploration of the Dark Ways and the Untrodden Paths through the Void, that was for his knowledge alone.

Discussing the variety of ways one could travel between worlds – between Space and Time – with his fellow Apprentices (and then, Acolytes), Kol'la began to realize that most were only too happy to rely on the good graces of Heimdall and the glory of the Bifrost. The Hidden Paths, the Untrodden Paths, the Dark Way was dangerous, they said, and best left to the elves and other desperate folk of the Nine Realms. Raised eyebrows, dark insinuations and the shaking of heads were signals enough to the cautious Kol'la, and he never raised the subject with his colleagues or teachers again.

So, the years passed by calmly enough, filled with short quests for the Mage's Court or longer quests, protecting Thor's back. Interspersed were long periods of study, in which Kol'la grew in knowledge by leaps and bounds. He began to study as an Acolyte, speeding through his studies with enviable speed. Whispers often followed him down the halls as he stalked past, blue tunic fluttering, head in a book. The Jotun's sharp ears could hear their discontent and envy at the insouciant way in which he treated the Crown Prince when the young warrior came to visit (and it was often). How the Prince honestly looked bored and disinterested in any of the goings-on within the Mage's Court – until Kol'la showed up with his heavy glares, sharp tongue, wicked smile and penchant for mischief.

Of all the Mages, Mage Smithra, Healer Gjalla, and Mage Flarathir were most disapproving of the carefree Acolyte. At least once a week, if Kol'la was not out on some quest or errand for High-Mage Agaeti or Odin, the Healer or two Mages were castigating the young mage for some supposed misdemeanour in the hall. The fact that they could not exactly pin the mischief on Kol'la angered them more. No matter what demeaning chore they gave him (from washing bed-pans to laying out compost on the gardens to scrubbing pots in the kitchens), Kol'la's serene expression and calm responses gave them no grounds for further punishment.

Kol'la, after all, knew that their suspicions did have some foundation. Among the other students and newcomers to the Court, he had gained a reputation not only for magical prowess but also a penchant for mischief and trickery – and cool, unnerving ability to take risks. A live fire, Mage Smithra once had ranted in the Upper Mage Council, that will burn out of control. Odin, however, would not be gainsaid – and so, Mage Flarathir shook his head as he watched Kol'la dragged once again away from his studies to stumble after Thor, complaining loudly about "not wishing to get involved in yet another meaningless brawl for some strumpet".

"She is no strumpet," Thor was saying. "The lady in question is seeking your favour, Kol'la! Be reasonable!"  
"I have no interest in the woman, Thor! Unhand me!"  
"Kol'la – keep this up and your reputation will be set in stone – as some kind of -"  
"Some kind of what?" Kol'la jerked out of Thor's grasp and glared at his shieldmate stonily. "I dare you to finish that sentence."

Thor sighed.

"Listen, I know you like girls – you remember that one whore on Sharda'aa -"  
"Do not speak about Glo-Glo in such a manner – she was -"  
"She was no lady, Kol'la. I know you have just come from that whole thing with Kayra -"  
"There was no thing, dou'ma!"  
"That is not what she told everyone at the feast!"  
"She is merely some envious Healer who did not like the fact that my working was more effective than her year-long studies and I would not pay attention to her useless prattling - or the fact that I repayed in her malice in kind -"  
"I swear, Kol'la, the way you treat women -"  
"What about the manner in which they treat me?"  
"Well," Thor rolled his eyes and shoved Kol'la before him as they left the main gates of the Mage's Court and out and down the broad road, "you merely have to learn how to behave around them – how to curb them – and what better way to show your prowess than through combat?"  
"For you, it always comes round to combat," Kol'la replied sourly. "You are always forcing me to train in the 'arts of war', Thor, and forcing me to fight – as though I care about gaining renown by wrestling like some dumb beast in the mud."  
"Kol'la, this is not just about renown," sighed the Crown Prince as they made their way through the busy streets of the centre of the capital. "It is about how the others see you – you know what they say."  
"I care not what they say," Kol'la replied quickly, daring Thor to disagree.  
"Well, you do not want to be considered a weakling ALL the time, do you?"  
"It makes for an element of surprise – and why they consider me ergi just because of my slight build or the fact that I am a seithrmaster is beyond me. Just because I am a sorcerer or attend classes at the Mage's Court does not make me less of a – a – a man, or a person!"  
"But there is no honour to be had in such underhanded dealings and tricks -"  
"Say that again the next time you need my aid in battle," Kol'la jabbed at Thor viciously in the arm. "Say it!"

Thor just laughed and shook his head, brushing off Kol'la's remarks and disagreements easily. He could always laugh – and Kol'la found a great urge overcome him to crush the ignorant Prince. _Some things_, he sighed, _never change. I will never be able to change him... This is a lost cause – and if I am unable, who will be?_

It was a worrisome thought. _In the Eternal Realm, trouble stirs just as easily as elsewhere._ Kol'la began to understand a little better what haunted Odin and kept the King up so late at night. _Eternal we are... and yet we feel as though time is too easily spent. _

_Time_, Kol'la mused, _is running out._

* * *

**Yep. There we have it. Another step for Kol'la to take. Another step... What happens next... HM? A conversation of epic/silly proportions. Frigga in the next chapter! YAY! And family dinner time. Yes. I hope it turns out OK.  
**

**But some bad news... Kol'la won't be Loki until... maybe Chapter 43 or something like that. I had to break up a few chapters, so yeah... SORRY! But he is coming. I've almost gotten to the moment! (gasp~!)**

**Because of things I've had to add and stuff, this story will now reach 75 chapters. Hopefully it won't expand anymore... **

**Also, I've decided what to do with those side-story ideas! HA! As thanks for being splendid reviewers, every now and then, for special occasions, I will email a side story to those who review. When I'm finished writing the entirety of this story, I will post all the side-stories on FFNET - but only those who have reviewed will have read some of them (not all) beforehand. So if you wanna sneak peek of side-stories, be sure to drop a line. XD **

**Let me know what you think!  
Since this Chapter is shorter, an update will come a little faster... maybe in 4 days... around Wednesday. XD  
-KI**

**Author's Note on Odin: Just want to clarify that Odin has not made Kol'la Thor's brother legally... just saying to be "like a brother" to Thor. For what reason? Well, he has cited some reasons... but be wary! Not all is as it seems... and people LIE! (just like House says)  
**

**Author's Note on the Cliffie: It's OK if you are confused since the story is written from Kol'la's perspective and he is confused. However, I did leave a few clues.  
1) Odin and his gang hung behind, but they were mounting their horses  
2) Kol'la hears Sif mention something about the generals: "Sif was screaming something about the generals"  
3) There is a long jet of something like flame: "There was nothing but fire... in a high-powered jet of flame and light."  
4) This long jet of flame and light makes something like a ripping, roaring sound: "a ripping, roaring sound"  
5) This force moves upward and not only pierces the bandit but also neatly decapitates the Siroyaniu bull neatly (like a lightsaber)  
All of these clues together might make sense... maybe not. If not, I added a few sentences in the next update chapter to clarify things. XD**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"


	38. A Glimpse of Destiny I

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to everyone who is faving and following - but even greater thanks to the encouragement given to me through such kind reviews. A shout out should go those who reviewed the last chapter: The Soul Soldier, NX-Loveless-XN, Yami Vance, Ireland Ranger, DragonsFlame117, Winter Cicada, wbss21 and ClaMiAl. **

**As a tangible thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapters, I will be contacting everyone soon about the first side-story I'm planning/writing. I will probably provide a mediafire link (with password) or send directly to emails. Just let me know your preference in your reviews.**

**Sorry... but this is a rather conversational piece...! Massive editing had to be done to this b/c I accidentally called Kol'la Loki! You can tell it's almost time for him to be Loki b/c he feels more Loki-ish and my subconscious is crying out for the name we all love.  
**

**Sigh.**

**So if you see a 'Loki' anywhere, please let me know.**

**Also, revisiting the Asgard map may be in order...**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 38  
A Glimpse of Destiny I

**[...the skies of Asgard...]**

**[...open and serene...]**

**[...split by a hawk's cry...]**

**[...silences teem with life...]**

Sweeping down from the northern sea, Asgarthaharr, across the promontory of the Aestrplat Highlands, the wind brings to the Aestrfold homesteads a touch of the sea – the faintest tang of salt and crispness. Running along the soft pale gold heads of wheat in the early fall or along the dark loamy soil of early spring, it sings brilliantly of adventure on the high seas and starlight beyond.

So it runs, until it meets the eaves of Storrmyrk, the large eastern portion of Asgard's Great Forest, where the wind hesitates among the trembling leaves and creaking boughs. As the now warm wind eases southwards around the edges of the ever cloud-topped Storrfjall mountains, to where the Leysaharr sea laps up against the wilder regions of Asgard. This is where the Rikrfljot River runs down to the Leysaharr alongside the Sothafold and where the wind can once again greet wild waves which drop off into the Void and are returned by rising and lowering clouds and mists. The never-ending magical cycle of Asgardian weather, Asgardian life.

Up and around the wind whistles, cheerfully the western forest of Mikillrmyrk, which is a hillier region that eventually fronts on the Waestrfold. Like its twin, the farmland of the Waestrfold bears crops of wheat and corn and other vegetables and fruits. Isolated hamlets and their outlying farms are far and few in-between – but eventually more and more low-roofed homesteads gather on the plains and gentle folds of hills – as the City of Asgard looms.

Here, the grand Orchards of Ithunn lie and further inward the mystical quarter of the mage's Court, where the Aesir High Council of Magics and Academics are seated. The wind, whimsical as it is, varies from careful to destructive, tugging on the fluttering pennants, flapping flags, clanging bells, clattering shutters and swinging signs. Canvas tents and canopies smooth out underneath the wind's gentler hand – but on other days, everything goes to Helheim in a hand-basket, and noting is sacred from High-Mage Agaeti's stocking cap to the flower girl's petals.

Asgard is a glorious playground – and even now, the wind speeds along its merry way, blasting around corners promising rain and other disastrous things later in the evening. No hall is too grand for its admittance – and eventually, the wind reaches one ornate balcony and a paired set of wide, intricately-carved windows on either side properly curtained with purple and gold.

It is evening now and this is the All-Father's private dining room, which is, as is usual once a week at least, in use as the Royal Family sits down for their evening meal.

**[...the wind moves on...]**

**[...like Time, it waits for no one...]**

As the serving girls and men withdrew after laying the table with food and all the dishes, Frigga rose and began to briskly serve herself some of the vegetable soup which sat closest to her. Unlike usual meals in the grand, more public dining hall, the Royal Family did not stand upon ceremony in their private eating rooms and Frigga had a fondness for serving her "boys" - which Thor and Kol'la alike protested. This evening, Kol'la, seated across Thor, on Frigga's right hand side, carefully handed her some steamed sprouts while taking the overly gilded soup tureen.

"So," Frigga was saying, "it looks like rain tonight, which is just another added blessing since the Norns know we needed a bit more moisture in the soil. With this clement weather we are having, I think the planting will do even better than before!"

Odin nodded agreeably, skewering a few more slices of roast boar before helping himself to the bread basket and the steamed sprouts which had been carefully (and silently) offered by Kol'la. Glancing at his son on his right hand, Odin watched Thor stack up a pile of meat and couldn't help but smile. _Ah... Thor... as always, a man who knows not the meaning of the word 'restraint'._

"And of course, that means only good news for the orchards," Frigga continued on. "Ithunn's Orchard will no doubt provide some fair produce this year."  
"Yes," Kol'la said, helping himself to a small slice of bread and meat with gravy on top. "I myself am looking forward to Mage Erik's herb harvesting this year. He was saying that the magical properties of the Realm are especially strong this season which will make for healthy plants."

Underneath Kol'la's comment, Thor's satisfied munching could be heard – which earned him a reproving look from Frigga. Odin smiled indulgently again and then watched Kol'la carefully select food from his plate as if the slender warrior-mage was more of a bird or a rabbit. As usual, Kol'la showed his difference – in those small, not-quite-noticeable ways. _In the small things_, Odin thought, _perhaps... in the important things as well... It is difficult to tell. It has always been difficult to tell with that boy, ever since the first day I laid eyes upon him. A murky destiny, Agaeti said, murky indeed..._

"You have your own garden, do you not?" asked Frigga. "I thought they gave every Apprentice a small plot of land."  
"Hm, yes," Kol'la nodded, "but it is too small to grow the rather important herbs and considering the usual level of intelligence required to care for, much less harvest, it is no surprise that certain... herbs are not allowed -"  
"Father," Thor's booming voice cut through Kol'la's quiet explanation as the young warrior turned to the grey-haired monarch. "With this weather, do you think the stock of boar and deer will replenish just as well? Perhaps this would be a good time to visit the Wilderlands outside Vanaheim -"

Before Odin could say anything, Frigga frowned and sighed, "Thor! Kol'la was speaking!"  
"Oh... well..." Thor replied bewildered, "He can still speak with you, can he not?"  
"I am certain we can have two conversations on the table," Odin agreed mildly.  
"If he uses his indoor voice, yes," Kol'la replied a tad bit snidely. "As it is, I doubt anyone could be heard over your usual racket, Thor."  
"Do not blame me if you take after the mannerisms of a mouse, Kol'la."  
"I am no mouse!" hissed Kol'la.  
"Well, no," Thor smirked, "now you sound more like a snake."  
"Boys," Odin gave each of the young men a LOOK, and the two settled down. _Ever they must find some way to battle. _He continued, "A trip to Vanaheim may come sooner than you expect, Thor, and I am certain that hunting in the Wilderlands would no doubt excite many a young Asgardian warrior and Vanaheim lordling."

-0-0-0-

At this Frigga sighed, remembering days of long ago when she had been younger and with more freedom to do as she pleased, able to ride alongside the other maidens who accompanied the young lords in their hunting expeditions. A time of merry romps and singing and dancing and other such romantic delights. _Odin, in particular_, she remembered, _had been in his element._ At the sight of Kol'la rolling his eyes, however, Frigga abruptly realized that others might not understand such pleasures. _Going by Thor's grin_, the Queen shook her head as she helped herself to some meat offered by Thor, _I know he means to put Kol'la through many trials if they were to both go to Vanaheim for hunting... and Kol'la has always considered such pursuits as a waste of time..._ Frigga smiled indulgently. _Those boys... my boys...  
_

-0-0-0-

There was a pause as everyone continued eating and then Frigga began the conversation again, knowing that Kol'la was now rather put out and could not be expected to extend his usual social graces for the rest of the evening.

"I noticed that the delegation of Dark Elves seemed uneasier today," Frigga noted. "Are the talks not going well?"  
"Hmmm," Odin gave the two, suddenly attentive young men a look before returning to piling his plate with more food including some kind of red jelly which had a sweet taste to it. "Well, there seems to be some rising factions within the Realm – strong dissenters who wish, above all, for power. This is never a good thing and with the ongoing power vacuum within Svartalfheim, I fear that sooner than later, a powerful Elf will rise and if his – or her – goals are not peaceable... well," the old king sighed, "we may have trouble on our hands."  
"Are there any names currently rising to the forefront?" asked Kol'la.  
"None at present, but they will no doubt come forward as our negotiations continue on. Perhaps in the next inter-Realm tournament, they will break with tradition, grace us with their presence and allow us to discern the true state of things."  
"This seems to me to be nothing but a waste of time," Thor's fist banged the table rattling the silverware and Frigga swiftly picked up her goblet which was currently filled with the clear cordial of Vanaheim pears. "They play with us and mock our overtures. We should destroy-"  
"Ah," Kol'la laughed then, bitterly, "I was waiting for the oh so familiar refrain."  
"You disagree?"  
"Obviously," was the reply, dripping with disdain.  
"You always disagree."  
"Because you are always wrong."  
"I am not always wrong," Thor protested.  
"Yes, you are."  
"No, I am not."  
"Are too."  
"Am not."  
"Are too."  
"Am not – there was that time-"  
"Boys!" Frigga said, setting her goblet of cordial down a little harder than necessary. "Now you two sound like younglings bickering-"  
"They are still young, the both of them," sighed Odin, "and they show it even now."

Kol'la glared at Thor and Odin before returning to stab at a piece of offending boar with his knife. Thor went back to his stack of meat, also clearly insulted.

"Now," Frigga said with a sigh, "there is nothing wrong with disagreeing-"  
"He disagrees all the time-"  
"On principle-"

Kol'la and Thor's voices cut off as Odin's fist also rattled the table and the monarch said in warning tones: "Listen to your mother!"

The warrior-mage was about to point out that Frigga was not his mother and he had no reason to listen to her more or less than any other person, but then Kol'la realized that Frigga did look genuinely upset and disappointed. A knot formed in his stomach as he remembered all the times Frigga had visited him within his sanctuary at the Mage's Court, how she had always given him things – seeds and herbs and rare magical tomes for his own personal use – and had asked for nothing in return. Kol'la shut his mouth and stared unhappily at his plate.

_She is too kind_, he thought, _and that is why Thor will never learn the truth of the matter, will never know the reality of life..._

"Now," Frigga said into the awkward silence. "Kol'la. What were your thoughts on the matter?"  
"Well," Kol'la inhaled, calmed himself down and ordered his thoughts. "Looking at this from a – a political standpoint - and I know that I am not well-versed nor educated in such matters, formally speaking - yet, I feel that going to war against Svartalfheim would undercut Asgard's current stance of peace... It would be better if Svartalfheim could be seen as the aggressors, which would then give us license to do as we please." A pause and Odin nodded slowly which Kol'la took as a good sign and he continued onward. "Furthermore, the Dwarves of Svartalfheim enjoy the neutrality and would not accept Asgardian rule as easily as some would suppose, I think. At least, that is the intimation that I received upon reading Kikkabruk's treatise. Kikkabruk is a Dwarf of Niflheim, true, but they are brothers in race and understand each other. In both cases, Dwarves have found themselves most well-suited living in the shadow of Asgard's counterbalance – Svartalfheim and Helheim and Niflheim. Besides, violence cannot solve everything."

A silence and Frigga reached over to give Kol'la's hand a squeeze, looking very proud and Kol'la ducked his head, blushing just a little. Odin's blue eye which had been scrutinizing the warrior-mage closely moved back to the king's plate – but not before catching Kol'la's green eyes which rose uncertainly to meet his. The ageing monarch's face eased a little with a swift smile and Odin nodded approvingly.

"A king should never seek out war," he said after a moment, turning to give Thor a hard look. Then he added, "but he must be ever ready for it."

Kol'la blinked at those words. _What can those cryptic words mean exactly? How could Thor even begin to understand... But of course, it is not my place to say anything... not really...  
_

"Well, then," Frigga broke the silence with a light laugh, "that only brings into relief how important our relationship with other realms is. The delegation of Vanaheim young lords and ladies which will be visiting us next month will be important for Asgard's future – as well as a good opportunity to enjoy oneself."  
"Ah," Odin smiled then, obviously with fond memory, "the youthful court of Vanaheim. Do you remember those days when we went hunting in the Wilderlands – and chased the wild beasts therein, both fair and proud? And afterwards, wandered hand in hand in the heather or under the trees and found pleasure in-"  
"Odin!" Frigga whispered, scandalized, face red.  
"Ah!" Odin laughed then, noticing the combined looks of horror on Thor and Kol'la's faces. "My pardon, I beg you... memory took hold of me and – come now, Thor, is it so hard to imagine your father and mother enjoying the days of their youth?"  
"No, no," Thor mumbled, now more than a little red. "Not as hard as it should be, perhaps."  
"Agreed," Kol'la said incoherently into some steamed sprouts.  
"Well," Frigga gave the two young men a fond look, "I am certain you two will make your own memories, for the ladies of Vanaheim are fair indeed, I think."  
"They always are," Odin gallantly added with a wink, which left Thor breathlessly hacking up a load of wine – and Kol'la grimaced at the red spittle aimed his way, delicately pushing his plate aside, appetite now almost decimated by Thor's usual bad table manners.  
"The girls will love a good song and dance -"  
"That is well," Thor grinned, winking at Kol'la conspiratorially, "for I love a good song and dance myself – of many varieties – and usually great company enjoys all the kinds of enjoyments Asgard... and I... have to offer."  
Kol'la snorted into his own wine, muttering, "That is the truth."

Frigga sighed and Odin shook his head, chuckling.

"On the other hand, if this is purely a diplomactic matter," Thor gave his father a quick look, "I am certain it will be nothing but dull..." He paused to consider the matter further before adding, "And some girls are dull by nature."  
"That is because you wish for a girl who can knock you about," Kol'la teased Thor impishly.  
"Well then," Frigga laughed, "that is settled. Lady Sif, it is then."  
"Lady Sif, yes!" crowed Kol'la as Thor began to protest. "That is a perfect match."

-0-0-0-

Odin was not so pleased about Kol'la's snickers, but before he could reprimand the dark-haired young man, Thor mentioned someone called Kayra and the conversation which had calmed down quickly escalated into a shouting match. Watching the two young men holler at each other over the small table, disregarding Frigga's interjections, he couldn't help but remember himself at another similar table with his brothers. _This is what I wanted for Thor, but..._ Odin sighed as he listened for the sharp shards of emotion which laced through Kol'la's voice like hidden daggers. _But... the knife I wield is double-edged and cuts even itself... Can it be trusted so easily?_

"Just because I have standards-"  
"Standards? Ha! You were but playing with her-"  
"Playing? Playing?!"  
"You know how you love a game-"

The aged king eyed the green-eyed warrior-mage, face blank as he digested Thor's words. _Standards? So it is true then..._ Odin mused, _that Kol'la does not seem to court women as Thor does – and if he finds satisfaction, it must be only known to himself and the one whom he sought. And yet, if what Thor says is true, then this young mage can only understand it as if it were naught but the rules of engagement, as if it were naught but a game..._

_This young child..._

"ODIN!"

That was Frigga now, more angry than before and obviously needing someone else to corral the two young men who had resorted to kicking each other like young babes underneath the table. Odin grabbed each shoulder and, catching their attention, gave them each another look. Feet stilled but Thor and Kol'la looked like they were about to speak again, so Odin shook his head, coughed and said:

"Now, listen, you two." A pause. Then: "In matters of love, we all have our own rules. That is the way of things. Sometimes," Odin paused, eyeing Kol'la.

_Mysterious and incomprehensible._

"Sometimes," Odin continued slowly, "we must agree to disagree, understanding that we may never understand – but we can respect nonetheless. Do you understand this?"

_Do you hear me?_

"Yes," Kol'la nodded, pushing his plate emphatically aside, avoiding Odin's gaze.

_Yes, he would understand first._ Odin eyed his blonde-haired son. Thor looked a little lost, but the warrior nodded.

"Very well..."  
"Now," the old man nodded as Frigga rose to call the serving girls back for dessert. "Your mother says there is dessert?"

A few of the larger plates (but not the boar, Thor would no doubt want more of that for dessert as well) were removed and a pale green pudding arrived – cool and soft. It was not the usual choice for them – but it was Kol'la's favourite and Frigga was rewarded by an unguarded, wide smile which flitted across the young mage's face.

"Mint pudding!" he sighed, fidgeting a little as he waited for his serving. He stared down at the bowl offered him and sighed, "My favourite."  
"I know," Frigga gave a bowl to Odin and Thor before serving herself. "It has been a while since you could sit down with us for a meal, Kol'la – so I thought it would be a nice treat for us all... and it is perfect for warmer weather like today."  
"Today was hardly warm," grumbled Thor poking his bowl in a dissatisfied manner, "here, Kol'la, you can have mine as well. I'll have more boar."  
"Thank you," Kol'la hastily took Thor's bowl and placed it by his own, ignoring Odin's amused, raised eyebrow.  
"It is a bit more tart today," Frigga noted, sampling her share. "Perhaps some lemon."  
"I think some lemon," Odin agreed. "It is more pleasing this way, I think."  
"Hm, yes, and it is cooler than the last time," Kol'la nodded happily.  
"More congealed," Frigga agreed, "and less soupy."  
"That was not such a good batch," Odin nodded, "You are missing out on a good dessert, Thor."  
"I do not like it so much, even if it is done right," Thor shrugged, skewering more meat, "and besides, why waste good food on someone who has no taste for it? Better that Kol'la enjoy it. It is not as though he can eat such kinds of food everyday."  
"Now, Thor," sighed Frigga.  
"It is true!" Thor protested uneasily, knowing from the look that Frigga gave him he had said something wrong again.  
"It is true," agreed Kol'la quickly, starting on Thor's share now, "and I am thankful, as always."  
"Well, we are blessed to have your company," the gentle queen smiled.  
"Even if you two do end up squabbling like children underneath the table," Odin said trying to keep a smile from forming on his face. "I will have something amusing to tell Lord Tyr and High Mage Agaeti tomorrow... and the ladies of Vanaheim when they arrive," he glanced up to catch twin looks of horror aimed his way – and he chuckled.  
"I am sure he will not tell High Mage Agaeti," Frigga consoled Kol'la who still looked a little chagrined and frightened. "He is just having a small joke. Now, Kol'la, have some more – seeing as Thor will not be asking for extras – would you like more, dear? No? Kol'la? Here..." As she ladled out more of the mint pudding, she smiled at the slender young man and prattled on reassuringly, "So, now that you are nearing the end of your tenure within the Mage's Academy, how do you feel about your studies as an Acolyte? Do you think you will stay in the Mage's Court or study elsewhere for a while?"

With that the conversation turned to more mundane topics.

**[...and the night brought rain...]**

**[...and the days brought the ladies and lords...]**

**[...of Vanaheim...]**

* * *

**This and Chapter 39 and Chapter 40 were meant to be all in one chapter - but... alas... things got a bit out of control when I realized I had planned too much detail into one chapter... We'll see how crazy it gets. Sorry that this was one long conversation... but this is really necessary to show how their family dynamics are working out. Although they aren't technically a family... THEREFORE LOKI WILL BE CALLED LOKI AROUND CHAPTER 43... SORRY!**

**BUT I WROTE IT! YES! THE LOKI NAMING CHAPTER IS DONE! (passing out from frothing at the mouth thanks to her inner excitement) Hopefully it'll be exciting for you when you get there.**

**Anyways, let me know what you think~! I always appreciate comments!  
Update will be around Sunday or Monday, depending on how motivated I feel and life and stuffs...  
-KI**

**MORE SKETCHES AVAILABLE ON MY PROFILE! **

**AND BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE A TABLE OF AGES... so I don't have to keep calculating this stuff all the time. (my maths are terrible) On this picture, you'll not only see the ages of Thor/Loki as the story progresses, but also how it fits in with Realm time and relative Earth ages (but not Earth time, I'm not that interested yet) - AND also a freebie! JOTUNHEIM TIMELINE! (What the heck am I doing? I just spent an hour on this. I've got no life! AH!) There will be parts of the Timeline, where you'll be, like, "What's going on?" All will be explained in one way or another... and if you use logic, you may be able to spoil yourself a little about the direction of this story. So, don't click unless you are a real nerd about this story...  
**

**I hope someone can appreciate it... I spent an hour on it...**

**Author's Note on Writing Dialogues: I scanned in a part of my writing notebook to show folks how I plan dialogues, since a few have mentioned how they have enjoyed my dialogues, and I thought I might show my techniques for the very important dialogues which dot this fanfic. Might be useful for those who want to see how other authors plan their writing! See my profile for the link to the scanned pages!  
**

**Author's Note on Frigga: The Vikings had a very patriarchal system, true, but they were also realistic and knew that there were times that women had to operate outside the usual parameters - (thinks of Tolkien and his women) - and that is rather fair all things considering, I think. So doormat!Frigga isn't a very kind portrayal of her because it's saying she is powerless/unable to do ANYTHING, which is an exaggeration. On the other hand, in the movie (and in other forms of canon), we do see Frigga give way before her husband, accepting his "wisdom" (which btw, I thought was pure bull-crap, but hey, whatevs)... which I think shows a different kind of strength. Meekness isn't weakness, you know? So, I think my Frigga doesn't just take charge and whoop Odin's a$$ (as some people like to write her) - but she does enact awesome destruction-control measures when the men mess up. [Hope this makes sense.]**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"


	39. A Glimpse of Destiny II

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to all those who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed the special side-story I wrote. Thanks to: wbss21, ClaMiAl, NX-Loveless-XN, Winter Cicada, MikoHatome, soupcan, Biabara, DragonsFlame117, Ireland Ranger, Anarane Oronra and The Soul Soldier.**

**Double double toil and trouble! On all fronts... In this fanfic, lots of it. In my real life, tons. My dad was diagnosed with viral meningitis..Seriously? What? I know... weird... and my allergies brought my immune system down crashing, so I've got a cold AND a growing case of some bizarre form of eczema called... dishydosis or something. T_T  
**

**Between illness and class prep and stuff, I may not update for a good week after this. Depends how I feel this week. (crosses fingers) Here's to hoping!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 39  
A Glimpse of Destiny II

When the youth of Vanaheim's Court finally arrived in Asgard, the entire city and, even more so, the Palace were in a tizzy of expectation. Servants rushed about surrounded by a perpetual barrage of commands. Housekeeping staff revisited musty guest chambers in a whirlwind tour of the further recesses of the castle. Stable-hands and their boys found themselves pressed into various duties including re-cleaning the entire Royal Stables from top to bottom until they sparkled – if stables could sparkle, providing maintenance around the Courtyard and Palace and other various errands... if they weren't already working on their own daily duties. Maids cleaned and gossiped and tittered and giggled at the tales of the nonsense the young Lords of Vanaheim could get up to when abroad. No better than young Prince Thor, if you asked them.

The youth of the Royal Court of Asgard, the young lords and ladies therein, who had disappeared into the countryside for familial matters or late spring holidays, returned to the capital with high hopes of getting Court invitations to the various functions that would no doubt be held. Many a morning was spent waiting for the red and brown-clad messenger boys who brought with them excessive bundles of vellum filled with gorgeous cleric scripts and carefully worded invitations to balls and hunts and tea parties and the like. Of course, the amount of invitations you received equated a certain social status, so, as the days passed by, nervous young ladies and excited young lords were filled with intense expectation more usual during the Winter Solstice celebrations.

The Mage's Court was in no better state. This annoyed Kol'la no end, for the young scholar was more interested in completing his final dissertation on the use of heat energies for self-sustaining travel through the Void. High-Mage Agaeti had shown uneasy approval of the project, but had allowed Kol'la to continue, knowing that obstruction would only fuel the young scholar's insatiable curiosity even more.

At any rate, unlike most Apprentices, Kol'la had already completed the exam for Apprenticeship and was now speeding through higher level Acolyte work in an effort to combine both achievements into one graduation. He had no time for Thor's discussions on the joys of tumbling young Vanaheim ladies or Fandral's inane babbling concerning various Court gossip (which usually amused Kol'la and gave him idea for well-meant pranks – but not these days) or Volstagg's perusal of the Queen and her Handmaiden's plans for the feast entrees. Sif and Hogun, after Kol'la had nearly turned red from annoyance, had recognized Kol'la's need for peace and pulled a protesting Thor and Fandral away.

As he watched yet another group of gabbling, low-level Apprentices pass by in the corridor just outside his room, Kol'la sighed and shook his head. He knew what was coming – long-winded speeches, eternally revolving dances and outrageous amounts of feasting and drinking which would last until all hours of the wee morning. Interminable feasts offering nauseating amounts of food and mead... _and drunk fools to boot_, Kol'la grimaced and then brightened at the thought of seeing Sif standing about uncomfortably in a fine gown. _At least, I will not be the only one miserable. And Vanaheim is a magical place – the homeland of Lady Frigga – so perhaps there will be some interested in discussing magic..._

BAM! The wooden door to his small, spartan chamber banged open as two lower-level Apprentices and a young Healer burst in: Thykka, Hael and Spaeyk. Kol'la scowled and was about to reprimand them snottily on destruction of Academy property (as if he had never done that before) when he caught sight of the stack of scrolls and brown squares in their hands. Blue eyes dancing and pushing back her long hair which had fallen out of its neat bun, Hael, currently the Academy's only female Mage Apprentice, laid her bundled down with triumph and stepped back to allow her fellow Apprentice Thykka and the Apprentice Healer Spaeyk to follow suit.

"Kol'la!" she said, nearly jumping up and down, which caused Kol'la to glare darkly at the three even more. "Your box was overflowing so Master Eskol told us to bring it to you. You know how he gets when things look messy – and with the lords and ladies -"  
"I know, I know," Kol'la rubbed his brow, leaving an even bigger smear of ink across it. "And you also know that I have no interest -"  
"Ah! How can you say that!" protested Thykka, scrabbling through the invitations. "You have the most out of all of us here. Even more than the Aggra."  
"You should not speak of High-Mage Agaeti in that manner," gasped Spaeyk nervously looking about as if expecting the aged magician to appear from underneath Kol'l'a's bed.  
"Well, that aside," Kol'la waved his hand dismissively (and smiling just a bit that his nickname of 'Aggravation' had stuck). "They could send me a mountain of missives. I will not go."  
"Seriously?" sighed Thykka. "Well, you would be the one to say no..."  
"What a shame," agreed Hael, opening up one invitation and then paused at the sight of Kol'la's evil eye before shrugging and continuing. "What? It is not as if you are going to answer them, Kol'la... I need to see what you got. We have a running tally and that bikkja, Kayra, has been saying she is about to get the most. I pointed out your pile, but she said you would not respond to the letters, so they do not count."  
"She really has it out for you, Kol'la," Spaeyk sat on Kol'la's bed, ignoring another look of disapproval. "Ever since that time..."  
"She deserved it," Thykka laughed. "You remember her face? I laughed so hard... my cheeks hurt."  
"And that is saying something," Kol'la grumbled.  
"OK. Come, Thykka, and help me to tally these up. A hunt. You writing this down? Here – I have my scrip and pen."

Thykka began to write up a running tally as Hael opened the letters. Attempting to focus on the intricacies of sigil-work in Void-space, Kol'la found himself listening to Hael's soft running patter.

"Let us see what Kol'la has here. Amazing. A hunt. Got that? And this one is... another hunt... but this one is with the High Court. How did you get that kind of invitation, Kol'la?"  
"There is probably some rich old dame who-"

There was a short scuffle as Kol'la kicked Thykka in the shins and when everyone was more or less calm again, Hael's stack had increased a bit as the girl continued unmoved by the short tussling match.

"Two hunts so far. A dance. Another dance. A feast. A tea party. Oh, here is two more tea parties – no – no, Thykka, that makes three tea parties. And two dances. And two hunts. And a feast. Here is... a ball. The big one to which everyone is invited. Another tea party. You will be drinking a lot of tea..." Thykka made a face behind Hael's back. "I saw that," Hael said absently. "And another ball – there is much dancing in your future, Kol'la. Do you have sturdy shoes? No, sorry. You are not going. Never mind."  
"Look," Kol'la's hand slammed down on the remaining stack. "This should not-"  
"Another hunt. This one is a small one and it appears that it was extended from Her Highness, Lady Frigga-"  
"Save that one," Kol'la grabbed the piece of vellum before smoothing it out again and then slotting it away somewhere in his scroll-top desk carefully. "That one is mine. I will – I will answer that."  
"Hm. Of course he will," Thykka nodded. "He is her favourite after all."  
"Ah, then you will want this tea party and this ball. Both from Her Highness. Oh, here is the Mage Court feast. And the Commoner's Street Dance. Not particularly special since we are all attending those. Still, here are two closed lectures – Kol'la! You will hear a lecture from Aggra and the All-Father himself on seithrmancy and – well, never mind, it is not like you plan to go. Two more feasts. And- No! Kol'la! Wait!"

Kol'la had had enough. Rising, he was now attempting to reclaim his letters. Spaeyk gave a small squeak of indignation as the young Apprentice Healer was roughly hoisted off his perch and out into the corridor, followed by Thykka, who with the determination more easily found in warriors was still continuing his tally. Ink spattered across grey paving and the piece of scrap vellum he had been writing on smeared. Thykka cursed fluently.

"We are almost done!" Hael was protesting in a higher voice now. "It is obvious you are more popular than Kayra or Vinsaell! Come, Kol'la!"  
"I. Do. Not. Care. Hael, please," Kol'la sighed, not so gently removing the letters from the girl's hands, refusing to be caught in some kind of fight with a girl over the Vanaheim nonsense. Pushing Hael out by her shoulders as the girl slowly edged to the door, Kolla wondered what would happen if he seized her and threw her out. _Best not_, he thought managing to edge Hael out despite the intense dragging of heels. The young Mage-to-be shut the door and locked all three locks which he had personally installed before slumping against the wood and sliding down to sit on the floor with a sigh.

It was getting worse.

**[...but then...]**

**[...it always gets worse...]**

**[...before it gets better...]**

The light strains of lute and fife and violas filtered past the heavy red velvet curtains and out into the mildly cool spring air. Long set, the sun had sunk behind the Skythurs Mountain, lighting up the grand city of Asgard. Few guests of the intimate ball, hosted by Her Highness Lady Frigga had gone out and so the smaller balcony was currently empty – save one still figure.

A slender black silhouette blotted out the stars and the glorious night sky – and it turned as the thick red fabric opened just enough to let a short slim figure past. For a moment, there was on awkward silence as the newcomer – a demure young lady from Vanaheim looked about in the too faint glow of a lamp for the inevitable company of the dark-haired young man. There appeared to be none. Yet.

"Oh – I'm-"  
"No – no-"  
"I'm – I – I'm sorry-"  
"My lady, it is-"  
"I did not mean to interr-"  
"Not at all. There was no interruption."

Voices clashed and halted and started – and blue eyes met green ones timidly. A smile suddenly broke across the girl's face and laughter burst out. At the sound of her merriment, the young man's tense shoulders tightened a little – but when he saw the honesty in her blue-grey eyes, he relaxed a little.

"I am sorry," she sighed.  
"It is no matter."  
"I wished to breathe some fresh air," the young girl tipped her head and frowned, obviously trying to remember her name.  
He smiled then – engagingly and said, "It is Kol'la. From the Mage's Court. I have been studying there these past... years."  
"You did not come from Asgard originally?"  
"What gave me away?" Kol'la asked bitterly.  
The girl laughed again softly and then said, "Quite a bit, I think. Yet, that is not a bad thing." A pause. "This is when you are supposed to ask for my name."  
"Yes," Kol'la turned more fully then, his green eyes sparkling. "I suppose it is. How remiss I have been! Whose company do I have the pleasure of keeping?"  
"Vessa of the Lower House of Vaetia from Vanaheim. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Kol'la." A tipping of the head accompanied a well-executed curtsey.  
"Well, then, Lady Vessa of the Lower House of Vaetia, Vanaheim, what has drawn you out for fresh air at this fine hour?" Kol'la peered through the slight opening between the two curtains and noticed that yet another half-hour long dance was underway. "The festivities are yet to be over."  
"Oh, you can call me Vessa," she leaned close, her light breath ghost just a little over Kolla's cheek as she too looked within the large ornate ballroom. For a moment, they watched the party continue on within before admitting: "Well, sometimes," she paused and then gave Kol'la a quick sad smile, "people need to... take a step back... to..." Vessa hesitated before shrugging and looking down awkwardly. "... consider things..."  
"A man."  
"I did not say that!"  
"You did, in a manner of speaking," Kol'la grinned. "Which one?"

Her blue eyes flickered over automatically and his gaze followed hers as the young woman's eyes wandered over the dense crowd which stood to the side of the large open dance floor now currently filled with dancers. In the middle of the laughing group, there was a very familiar blonde head bobbing above the others, the long waving hair now nicely styled and washed for the evening setting off the even tan and clear blue eyes. Kol'la's smile twisted just a little and he glanced away and straightened slowly.

"I see."  
"See what?"  
"It is the Prince. Thor."  
"I did not say his name!"  
"Let me guess," Kol'la sighed, easing back a little. "This is your first time to visit Asgard – to see the Royal Family."  
"Yes..." Vessa blushed and looked down. "So I must look rather... obvious, then."  
"Rather."  
"I am... sorry." An awkward pause. "I will leave you to... um..." Vessa paused and tipped her head. "What were you doing out here?"  
"Getting a breath of fresh air," Kol'la replied with a light laugh.  
"So you are avoiding someone too?"  
"Oh, no, no." A pause. "Haha. No. There is no one here this evening that would interest me -" Another awkward pause covered by a light cough on his part before Kol'la stumbled on, wondering if his light blush was easily seen. "I am sorry. I did not mean to imply..."  
"It is alright. I understand."

There was something in the quality of her tone of voice which caused Kol'la to eye the shy girl closely. Vessa's hair had been plaited in a rather old-fashioned way and her clothing was not very jewelled nor was she wearing the latest fashions. Kol'la had always prided himself on looking well; Vessa, apparently, did not - or could not. _And she wants Thor to notice her? There is no way he would notice a dowdy creature such as her._ Kol'la shook his head. _A pity._ He cocked his head in thought. _Unless..._

"I am usually not interested in gatherings such as these, either," Vessa admitted painfully. "What do you find more interesting... Kol'la?"  
"I am currently studying inter-realm travel through the Ways and the Void," Kol'la replied, watching her face closely expectating the usual tell-tale disinterest to creep onto her face. Nothing of the sort happened.  
"Inter-realm travel, using magic?"  
"Yes."  
"That can be rather... dangerous..."  
"The elves do it all the time."  
"It is their way," Vessa blinked. "It is rare to find other kinds who can stand the rigours of such travel. Particularly through the Void."  
"The Void is dangerous," Kol'la repressed a slight shudder, "all the more important to discover safe measures to enable better travel. Not all of us can depend upon the Bifrost."  
"You wish to go travelling any time soon?"  
"Some day," was the cryptic reply and then Kol'la gave the young girl a quick smile. "But that must hold no interest for you."  
"I would not say no interest," Vessa smiled back, turning away from the red velvet curtain. "What Dwarven runes are you using?"  
"Runes?" Kol'la asked. "Dwarven runes? Why dwarven runes?"  
"Well, yes, after all, dwarves do not rely on the Bifrost solely to travel. My tutor in Realm Runes and Inscriptions told me that dwarven runes can encourage perseverance and may help with extending magicks and strengthen delicate workings. I believe if you look in..."

And the two scholars wandered off into the gardens, arm in arm, underneath the soft glow of Asgard's moons.

**[...two minds meet...]**

**[...but the heart is, above all, a curious thing...]**

**[...and what the heart wants...]**

**[...the heart wants...]**

Over the next two weeks, in between intense research, Kol'la found the time to go to certain select parties, tea parties, balls, hunts and other small activities. Of course, there was no choice but for him to attend the two lectures by High-Mage Agaeti and Odin All-Father – to hear their discussion on seithrmancy, Vanaheim magic and its importance for integration with Asgard's own particular traditions. At the lecture by High Mage Agaeti, Thor noticed the young girl who sat by Kol'la – her blue eyes animated as she spoke with him, obviously intent on the subject at hand, judging by her gestures at the small vellum before her which held the notes handed out at the door. Thor looked at his own copy and stared at the arcane symbols – the arcane symbols which held no meaning for him.

_Not that I care about such strange matters and useless knowledge. Kol'la, of course, will enjoy this speech - and he will, no doubt, chatter about it all day long with Mother afterwards. And Mother will look so proud and declare he is the second son she always wanted_, Thor grimaced. _I guess in a way, my lack of interest in all things magickal disappoints her. That Kol'la can bring her joy... should also make me feel glad. He is like a brother to me... Would it be such a burden to accept him even closer? I could see Mother taking him under her wing - and Father would not gainsay her... _Thor shook his head, pushing his confused thoughts away, looking instead at the girl._ Kol'la is another matter and can be dealt with easily enough... On the other hand..._ He looked at the two again – the dark gold hair bent closely to the hair black as midnight and frowned. _Who was she again?_

Thor did not remember the lecture thanks to the sight of Kol'la and the mystery girl sitting together – and the following night when Kol'la arrived for tea with the Queen and her maidens, Thor made certain to join (as a surprise) and speak with the maid in question. She was, as he had guessed, from Vanaheim after all – and rather sweetly shy. Ignoring the dagger looks sent his way from Kol'la's direction, Thor bent his charm on Vessa and began to show Kol'la how it was done. It was a familiar rivalry - another kind of arena within which Kol'la and he had many times competed against each other. As Thor began to ensure his conquest, the unsettled thoughts concerning Kol'la settled just a little and Thor began to enjoy himself quite well indeed.

When the two left the women's quarters, an incredibly irate Kol'la dragged Thor aside and the heavier warrior followed willingly as the two stumbled into an empty corridor. Jerking his friend around, Kol'la met Thor's blue eyes evenly.

"I know what you are doing, Thor," Kol'la said.  
"What am I doing?"  
"You are poaching on another man's property. Again."  
"I did not know she was yours!" Thor protested, barely holding back a grin of triumph. "She responded to me so easily and it seemed to me that your relationship was merely that of friends or -"  
"Leave. Her. Alone. Auzha."  
"Kol'la," Thor pushed the younger man back easily, giving them both a bit of space. "You are overreacting. She has not made her choice."  
"You never let them make a choice."  
"What are you implying?" Thor asked, voice dangerously soft.  
"Nothing. I don't know," Kol'la rubbed his face tiredly. "You know what I am saying, however. Admit it! The girls lose all their sense and you make it so!"  
"All who come to me accept freely as I give freely, Kol'la. It is not my fault if you cannot attract any, nor keep any at your side. Your reputation precedes you -"  
"What are you saying? You saying that no woman would choose me over you?"  
"Well," Thor shrugged meaningfully.

A very tense pause ensued and then Thor folded his arms and cocked his head. _If I did not know better, I would think that Kol'la cared about the girl. Impossible... and yet... Perhaps this is something of Mother's influence upon him. Mayhap Kol'la is beginning to change... for the better._ Thor recalled his thoughts on the day he had brought Kol'la to Asgard. He had hoped to see his then friend, now almost-brother look to life with hope and joy instead of dread and fear. _Although Kol'la still is mysterious in many ways_, Thor mused, _he has learned so many things and has grown and come to be part of my life. Would I wreck his chances for happiness so easily - and yet, would I allow him to win without a fight? He abhors pity, after all, and would be highly offended if I appeared to give him permission to woo the girl. What other alternative do I have but to forge on forward?_

"Listen," Thor finally said, making up his mind. "There are two dances approaching. Let us see who can court the lady and keep her attentions. If, at the end, there is no certain choice on her part, we shall meet on the battlefield."  
"Thor, you must be joking," Kol'la said in a deadpan voice. Then, voice filling with dread. "You are not." The young man massaged his eyes, and then lowered his hand over his mouth in contemplation as he considered the matter before dropping them. "I cannot believe you think this is something that holds the solution. That I would even consider it as an option-"  
"It is a matter of honour," Thor shrugged. "It is simple. It is the only way. You know it." He turned away and eyed the lean profile of his friend and then as a hard pale face turned his way, lifted his chin in determination and added mischievously, "Whether you wish to play or not, Kol'la, the game is afoot. May the best man win."

-0-0-0-

Watching Thor leave, Kol'la mulled over the prince's words and grimaced. _May the best man win_, he thought, slumping back against the cold, hard, grey stone wall. _But, Thor, the truth is- _the truth you can never know –

_I am not a man._

Kol'la straightened and considered his options and the best way to avoid brawling in the stable-yard with the Crown Prince in front of their august guests.

_I am not a man, but I may still win._

He thought of Vessa. _Was she worth it? Was she worth all this trouble?_ Until then, he had not considered her too seriously – but suddenly... she seemed like a treasure.

**[...the heart wants...]**

**[...and what the heart wants...]**

**[...the heart wants...]**

_Was it Thor who had given her value? Thor's attentions?_ Kol'la did not know. _Or was it her curious, lively intelligence and the dichotomy of her heart's desires? Was it merely rivalry after all?_

He was going to win this. Of course, he was.

**[...is, above all, a curious thing...]**

**[...the heart is...]**

* * *

**But... will he?**

**Author's Note re Thor: Thor's having some introspective moments here... This is to deal with a few questions/comments a reviewer pointed out and I thought had great merit. As a result, I'm tweaking a few things here and there concerning Thor... and hope it feels more organic! There are a couple things I'm going to be factoring in with Thor, however...  
a) Thor is a social being - and I think that in a society that is mainly comprised of large families (culturally speaking), Thor might have felt the odd one out and wanted a little brother or sister.  
b) Loki is not yet his brother... just a very close family friend whom Thor has come to think of as something like a brother (all but legally).  
c) Thor kinda gets his own back/deals with his worries subconsciously by putting Loki down/giving him a hard time/teasing him etc  
d) Odin is by no means outwardly favouring Loki or showing Loki attention in any obvious way... Odin has chosen Loki - but that does not equate unadulterated affection, so I think Thor (rightly so) does not see Loki as a serious threat or rival for his fathers affection... (although... Loki might feel that way... dun dun dun). Frigga's affections, although appreciated by Thor, are not as necessary b/c he's in that phase where he's too cool for school.  
e) Thor kinda... pities Loki which means that he's more giving/forgiving (we see that at the end of the dinner conversation, the off-hand comment that Loki is less privileged which leads to Thor's generosity)  
f) other things will happen to ease the transition - which I can't speak of b/c it's spoilery. . **

**I hope this works for everyone!Let me know what YOU think~!  
If you haven't reviewed yet, there's still time to enjoy the side-story! Give me a shout, and I'll send the link to ya!  
Thanks a lot!  
-KI  
**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"  
bikkja – bitch


	40. A Glimpse of Destiny III

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**Thanks to those who fav and follow me. Thanks to my reviewers! To DragonsFlame117, Winter Cicada, Lady Ray Ray, Anonymous Reader, ClaMiAl, wbss21.**

**Anonymous Reviewer: I will add the Jotunheim dictionary to this chapter (to refer back to) but Jotunheim culture isn't really being brought up, so it's really a waste of space... isn't it?**

**So, this weekend was the Moon Festival Holiday = no real break for me. I ended up getting Saturday off - just sat around and watched "Heroes Of Cosplay". Now, there is a local cosplay con in May... Suddenly... I wanna do a Lady Loki - but based off of the MCU-Loki. Can I do it? I dunno...**

**Also check out this to see my views on Loki re myth and a certain article posted recently: kakashidiot DOT tumblr DOT com SLASH post SLASH 61594152146 SLASH the-reason-why-i-think-that-any-thor-avenger**

**HOLY CRAPIMOLLI! I BROKE MY PERSONAL RULE FOR THIS FIC - TO KEEP THINGS TO A MAX OF 3000 WORDS per chapter (trust me, I can go on forever!)... Oh dear...**

**Lots happen!**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 40  
A Glimpse of Destiny III

_How did things always end up like this? Why was it always that I must be trampled low? Is it truly my destiny to always walk the lesser path, the darker way – and take the role of the defeated? The disadvantaged?_

**[...these moments...]**

**[...herald the dark...]**

**[...the soul refusing to remain vanquished...]**

**[...in its cage, frets...]**

Darkness was spotting at the edges of his eyesight – vision fading and from far away the sound of cheering, taunting, laughter and roars of encouragement blurred together into a solid wall of sound. Pinning him down like a butterfly under the alchemist's thumb, Mjolnir pressed with the full weight of its uru metal while above Thor laughed and roared happily. Twisting his head vaguely, nose brushing up against straw and dirt, Kol'la tried to shake off the growing dark. From far away, piercing the dull roar a lighter voice was calling his name.

"Kol'la!"

His name. _My name_, he thought. _...who?_

"Kol'la! Thor!"

The taste of iron filled his mouth as he coughed wetly and a stabbing pain jabbed deeper into his back like a knife. _Broken ribs? Perhaps... He was... Thor was... never – never really aware of his strength._

"Kol'la!"

He blacked out.

**[...the heart wants...]**

**[...and what it wants...]**

**[...cannot always be attained...]**

In the end, it came down to the "battlefield" as Thor called it. _Yet, it is no battlefield_, Kol'la grimaced looking about the full stable-yard. Before him, Thor stood, broad face full of anticipatory glee as he circled the rough ring of dirt and straw. Around the two combatants stood a mixed, yet enthusiastic circle of stable-hands, horse boys, soldiers, guards, courtiers (young and old, Asgardian and Vanir), servants and other passers-by.

Washing women and ladies, standing by their favoured men, also had gathered to watch. The washing women called out boisterously, but not so the young ladies of Asgard's Court, nor those of Vanaheim. This time, Sif, oddly enough, did not look happy, standing by the side of the quiet maid in question, Vessa. Very rarely did men seek battle for a lady's favour – and one could tell by the look on the warrior-girl's face that she did not approve. Yet, the crowd would not be denied their enjoyment, for rarely did Kol'la do battle in public – and when he did ride out to deal with some confrontation or take part in warfare whilst on a quest, it was always to devastating effect.

Still, he rarely battled Thor in front of others – and it was obvious he did not take a beating from his Royal friend so gracefully. How would the new Asgardian fare within the strictures of the traditional combat for love?

Heimdall stood to one side, eyes calculating as he measured Kol'la from head to foot, noting how Kol'la's slender frame compared to Thor's well-defined musculature. Both, having stripped down to their cream under-tunics and leather breeches, were a study in opposites: slender to muscled, dark to fair, pale to golden, agility to power.

"Round One!" Fandral called out – and Thor dove in, as always, initiating aggressive contact. The two grappled – dust rose, the cheering increased as various holds were sought – and then, using sheer force and weight, Thor flipped Kol'la and pinned him down with a meaty forearm for the requisite five seconds.

Sif rolled her eyes as Thor jumped, fists raised to the sky triumphantly – as if he had already won. She winced and bit back her sympathies as she watched Kol'la get to his feet a bit more slowly, silent and chill as if daring anyone to deride him. As he stood massaging his left arm absently, which had just now gained a heavy dark bruise running upward past his rolled up sleeve.

"Onward – to Round Two!" bawled Fandral – and Heimdall nodded, making it official.  
"Well, Kol'la," Thor was turning to his friend. "Admit defeat now and save yourself the pain of this rough sport, which I so often heard you deride. What say you?"  
"And you know what they say on Lio Fourty-Five. 'Do not count your koraths before they bloom.'"  
"What is that?"  
"Never mind."  
"No, no. Tell me know," Thor laughed, facing Kol'la hands spread on his knees as he took the traditional opening stance. "While you have the chance," he added to the laughter of those less drunk to pay attention.  
"If you must know," Kol'la followed suit. "It means do not count your-"

-0-0-0-

"We should stop this," Hogun said.  
"It should never have started," Sif said blackly, arm drawing Vessa closer as the girl sighed again with embarrassment and worry.  
"You just wish they were fighting for your attentions," Volstagg said and added something not so polite which earned him a sharp jab from Hogun and a glare from Sif.  
"Perhaps if one of the commanders were summoned-"  
"The Commander Farfin and Ifynn are here already, Hogun," Volstagg pointed out cheerfully while helping himself to another pint of mead.  
"What a disaster," Sif sighed.  
"If the All-Father finds out..."  
"If?" Sif gave Hogun a withering look. "If? More like 'when'! And when he finds out – he will not be pleased."

Silence. Kol'la was talking with Thor.

"If you must know," he was saying, "it means do not count your victories until you have made success certain."  
"Well, this is one success I am sure of," Thor smiled back. "After all, you lack experience. You lack the strength... and maybe you have no real heart for it."

Kol'la did not reply, but his lips tightened and with that, the two began to circle again, legs spread just a little for firm footing, arms now hanging loosely, eyes fixed calculatingly.

Thor darted forward – but this time, Kol'la was obviously more ready. Sound escalated as the slim young warrior-mage twisted about, hand slipping and then sharply let and upward, hooking the crook of his unbruised right elbow behind Thor's knee. Pulling upward, Kol'la threw his weight sideways, tipping the blond warrior over smoothly – and then lading on Thor's solar plexus with a thud, pinned the surprised Prince down as Thor gasped for air.

Heimdall's voice boomed out, "And – ONE!"

"Round Two goes to Kol'la!" Fandral was shouting.

Kol'la, chest heaving and sweat trickling down and plastering his thin cotton shirt to his back, rose to his feet and stepped away to let Thor get up. Unlike Thor, he did not shout and jump, but there was an unpleasant smirk on his face and when Thor glanced at him, Kol'la's smile grew. All teeth – bright green eyes glinting with unholy glee, ferocity and pride.

A look passed between them then – something Sif could not understand. _Will never understand_, the warrior-girl realized, _for this is something that is... that can never be fully explained. Men._ With another disgusted sigh, she watched as a combination of Vanir youths and Asgardian commoners roared 'Round Three'.

It started – and this time, it was no holds barred. Rules had obviously been ignored as Mjolnir whirred out from its resting space by Heimdall's black boots. Everyone took several paces back – automatically. Volstagg eased over to stand before the wine and mead casks protectively. Knives flew through the air, nicking Thor, some finding their mark and slowing the sturdy warrior down... yet Thor was relentless and well did he pursue the ever shifting Kol'la, sometimes pinning down the younger man – but never long enough.

Kol'la was the wind to Thor's rock, easily shifting form as it suited his purposes. Once, they heard something crack in Thor's elbow – and the Prince gained a black eye and broken nose at some point in the proceedings. The slender warrior-mage, tossed about, kicked and eventually thrown down by Thor, fared much worse. When Mjolnir finally rested upon Kol'la's back, effectively capturing the thrashing young mage, everyone knew the fight had ended.

Sif breathed a sigh of relief and the girl, Vessa, gazed down at Kol'la with an apologetic look – obviously torn by her admiration for Thor and her respect for Kol'la. The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes, glad it was over. _For now at least_, she thought.

"Kol'la!?"

At the familiar sound of a raised female voice, Sif tensed. She turned and saw Frigga coming down the lane on her horse, obviously just returned from a ride with her husband. Odin All-Father, also still astride Sleipnir, his preferred eight-legged mount, looked on calmly. Catching sight of his son, Odin frowned and began to dismount. Frigga was already on the ground and making her way over.

"Kol'la! Thor!"

_How did she know?_ Sif wondered as the blonde-haired Queen strode forward, the crowd parting for her easily as everyone fell into uneasy silence. The tall woman was commanding in her ire, even clad in her casual riding dress of browns and muted purple. Unstrapping her serviceable brown cloak, the Queen met Thor's eyes before moving to Kol'la who lay still upon the ground. Unmoving.

Sif's hand jerked as Vessa tore free and flew forward to Kol'la's side, tears once stoically withheld, now falling freely.

"Kol'la? Kol'la?" She was saying over and over, tugging at Mjolnir wildly trying to turn the young mage around to no avail.  
"Thor! What are you doing – Oh. By the Norns, you will be the death of me! Wait until your father-" Stopping as she realized where she was exactly, Frigga took a deep breath and said in an icy, clear, cold way: "Thor. I think it best if you take our guests inside. Now." Thor nodded mutely. "And Mjolnir," added Frigga. "Go. Now." She paused to catch Heimdall's eye and several of the older courtier's and commander's eyes. "Perhaps the rest of you might give us some... space? Hogun, call the resident Healers over, please."  
"You heard your Queen," a gruff voice said and everyone began to scurry about.

-0-0-0-

Maids and washing women disappeared whispering quickly to each other. Stable-hands and their boys fled into the recesses of the stables, a few remaining to stable the King and Queen's horses. Commanders barked out orders, the tables were swiftly dismantled and the Vanir eased back, huddling in an uncertain group at the main archway to the palace – as Hogun disappeared within. When Odin finally walked into the stable-yard, his son and the Vanir were already glumly trooping inside.

"What happened?"  
"Foolishness," Frigga said, kneeling by the young mage's side, carefully rolling him over and tut-tutting at the sight of a wide range of bruising which marked the aquiline, aristocratic features and lightly toned torso. The girl, Vessa, clung to Kol'la's shirt tearfully and kept on babbling apologies.  
"This was my fault – I was so-so stupid – I should have – I should have listened and done what they – he had said. I did not mean any harm. I did not-"  
"Sif," Frigga sat back on her heels and gave the awkward dark-haired warrior-girl a look. "Take the child and calm her down." As Sif moved forward, Frigga added, "There may be more to this tale than meets the eye."  
"Indeed," Sif agreed thoughtfully. "I will... talk with her as best as I may. Perhaps your handmaids would be suitable companions – and chaperones – for her this evening?"  
"Ah..." Frigga eyed Vessa speculatively. "You think my son will wish to claim his prize?"  
"I am sorry-"  
"No. It is an intelligent decision, Sif. Remarkably astute of you," Frigga nodded. "Take her to my quarters. The handmaids will help you. Go."

With that, Sif pried away the obviously exhausted and overwrought girl, leaving behind the Queen who now presided over Kol'la's still unconscious form. Hogun was coming down the steps, breathless, with Healers in tow and a cot onto which Frigga carefully eased Kol'la. Bearing the fallen combatant away, Frigga said no more but watched Kol'la's unmoving, slackened, ever-pale face.

_Was it only yesterday that he was in my healing room grievously wounded? No... but it feels like no time at all. And yet, some things never change_, she shook her head, making a note to replace replace the boy's wardrobe with something better than the badly (obviously self-taught) hand-mended clothes. _Once again, he has fallen victim to his own brand of foolishness and my son's... my son... Thor..._

-0-0-0-

Odin remained behind to oversee the dismantling of the tables and the proper stowing away of the casks. The once filled yard emptied until naught remained but a grey-haired king who glared at the blood-stained earth ruminatively.

Lingering, Hogun watched the aged monarch and considered the matter. _Thor had won_, he thought, _and yet, in many ways, he had lost._

**[...victories come at a cost...]**

**[...it is never apparent...]**

**[...but the price one pays...]**

**[...do you know it?]**

"This should have never happened."  
"Frigga-"  
"Foolishness! Fighting over a girl!"  
"Frigga-"  
"What were they thinking? It is barbaric! What will the Vanir think?"  
"FRIGGA," Odin's voice finally managed to cut through his wife's angry mutterings as she puttered about the spacious healing room allotted to her personal care. "Calm yourself, woman!"  
"Calm myself?" Frigga whirled about, white bandages in hand as she approached her son. "Calm myself? How can one remain calm at a time like this?"

Thor sat in the opposite corner from Odin, looking appropriately (albeit temporarily) cowed as his mother wound a tight bandage about his elbow. Applying crushed stones and murmuring a short chant over it, she had wrapped up the cracked elbow, knowing that within a few days, the torn tendons and aching muscles would ease and the hairline fracture would mend itself. _Kol'la, on the other hand_, she frowned as she checked his pulse again, _has never healed as we do. He is, after all, not Asgardian originally, no matter what changes Ithunn's apples have wrought in his physiology. Goodness knows what weaknesses and strengths his parentage gave him..._

Frigga looked up and gave her son a look, "Over a girl!"  
"That is what most men do," Odin said, glaring Thor into continued silence, "Frigga. Just remember that this did not happen without Kol'la's consent – I am certain that this was the usual standard traditional battle-"  
"Brawling is more like it!"  
"Battle," repeated her husband evenly, "which is a thing of honour. Kol'la lost and in the losing, well..." Odin trailed off and shrugged. "Everyone knows the consequences."  
"Odin! The girl is not something to be owned – to be bartered or some such thing!" Frigga turned on Thor and pointed a finger as his mouth opened. "Silence, Thor! The lack of commonsense in this place is most disappointing! Goodness knows what the poor girl thought! Frey will not be pleased either... Did you two think of asking Vessa what her thoughts were on the matter?"  
"I did not have to."

The quiet voice cut through Frigga's scolding bringing the attention of the other three to the bed which took centre stage of the room. The patient had woken, apparently. Kol'la, as usual, attempted to get up – and Frigga rushed to his side, clucking her tongue and tut-tutting with disapproval as she forced her wilful patient back onto his pillow. Thor snorted and then looked away, avoiding Kol'la's lethal look.

"What do you mean?" Odin asked, giving Frigga a look – so the blonde woman subsided to her usual chair by Kol'la's side.  
"I did not have to ask her," Kol'la finally answered, staring up at the ceiling ruminatively. "It was obvious to me – her... admiration... for the Prince was... well, rather telling. And unfortunate."  
"For you," Thor grunted. "So her heart chose me! You never admitted that! What game were you playing at – if her desires were obviously for me? Weaving those webs of yours, as usual, Kol'la?"  
"Thor!"

Thor subsided at Odin's reprimand and stared at Kol'la who did not avoid his gaze either.

"That is because you do not disappoint my lowest expectations – in your usual way, you go about taking little heed to the intricacies of the matter." Kol'la leaned back again into his pillow and sighed, coughing a little and grimacing before continuing. "She might have been in love with you – but she could no sooner gain your interest on her own than a drab marigold could catch the eye of a flower seller." A pause. "I thought... at first to see if I could steal her from you before you were aware... or even arouse your interest in a jealous kind of way."  
"Well, it worked," Thor mumbled.  
"Yes, it did. Too well." Odin chuckled before turning serious again. "Yet, something else happened."  
"It took a few days – and a little bit of careful questioning around the Court and such-like – but I needed to relieve a few of my suspicions. Something about her manner toward me... prompted me to make certain-"  
"Always suspicious-"  
"Hush, Thor," Frigga leaned forward to squeeze Kol'la's hand encouragingly.

For a moment, the dark-haired young man's attention was diverted to their entwined fingers and his thoughts seemed far away. _Even more remote than ever..._ Frigga sighed. _In some ways, Kol'la defies definition... as if... as if even this simple gesture is something so foreign to him._ Her heart ached.

"Well?" she prompted softly.  
"Why would Vanaheim send her? She is of a Lower House – and those are usually not given to travelling. Everyone in the Vanir party was of the High Houses and Clans... but not Vessa. Vessa..." Kol'la explained slowly as if setting in stone something he had long feared, "Vessa was sent for me, I think." He glanced at Odin and then Frigga in embarrassment. "I know. I know. It sounds vainglorious at best-"  
"No, no," Odin mused, stroking his beard, deep in thought. "I could see such underhanded dealings finding their way to the one who holds the Crown Prince's counsel. The Vanir have their own set of political intrigues, as you well know... and... Lord Frey did seem, after all, interested in your abilities when you last visited there. Apparently, the amount of seithr used to keep you retained in their holding cells was enough to pique his interest."  
"Ah," Kol'la said, suddenly at a loss for words.  
"Yes," was Odin's dry response. "'Ah!' indeed. And the girl – was she pleasing to you?"  
"I think she surprised herself – and myself as well – in how well we... interested each other. The both of us find great joy in learning and in the use of seithrmancy. My current topic of research was of some interest to her and we found other common ground..." Kol'la hesitated. "I believe that when Thor... interrupted... our... explorations... she was coming to enjoy my company in her own way. Yet, when Thor suddenly pressed his attentions on her, I think she became very uncertain once again. After all," he added softly and bitterly, "the heart wants what the heart wants, for good or ill."  
Frigga sighed, "What a mess."  
"We did not make things easier for her," Kol'la admitted. "She was too young to play such games – and Thor and I were... relentless. It is no surprise that it got to this... point. I had hoped that she would make up her mind in some fashion before now... but..." He shrugged and glanced at Thor. "She couldn't."  
"She still can't," Frigga said. "And how could she choose? Therefore the both of you must make it easier for her. You two must let her go."

There was a silence and the two young men stared at each other calculatingly. Odin watched the wordless communion and smiled. _Of course_, Frigga sagged back onto her chair, _he is going to let them get up to their tomfoolery in the name of character building or personal growth._

"Odin," she implored, "tell them to let her go."  
"Frigga – it cannot be done so easily," Odin replied seriously and softly. "It is as Kol'la says – the heart wants what the heart wants and ever have young men butted heads over matters of love."  
"We are not barbaric Frost Giants!" Thor protested.  
"It is a manner of speaking, Thor," Kol'la snapped. "Use your head - no, wait... perhaps you should leave problem-solving to better minds and try your thick skull on-"  
"Are you implying-" Thor began.  
"Boys!" Odin barked, his voice clashing with Frigga's.  
"It is barbaric!" Frigga disagreed. "Once again you are sacrificing the well-being of – of our – of the boys just for some – some political lesson or-"  
"Frigga!"  
"Must they always come to blows over such silly-"  
"Frigga," Odin stood and crossed over to his wife who rose to meet him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with annoyance and worry. His hands rose to capture hers. "Frigga. Our boys - they live even now – and I will indeed have them desist. The girl shall be sent home with our blessings and well-wishes, but in Vanaheim, she will stay. And Thor." Here, the king stared down at his son who gazed back mutinously. "Thor will learn control, for pursuit of the girl places her in an unfortunate position. She must know she is not a suitable choice at the side of the King of Asgard – and her family has desired that she stand elsewhere... at the side of the future King's advisor and favoured friend. The future King of Asgard's brother, as it were." Odin stressed his words carefully and watched as Kol'la relaxed and Thor blinked, tension easing. "So, you must understand, Thor, that this is a test of discretion, discernment... which you failed to a certain extent - but you may succeed yet at controlling your desires and realizing that this matter demands the mind of a king. Do you understand?" Thor nodded, unhappily but more peaceably. "Now," Odin sighed, "Thor, you and I must part from here, for we have much to discuss. Kol'la will stay here - out of the snares of such politicking... Frigga?"  
"I shall stay awhile," the Queen sighed, giving way to her husband's unspoken request to let the matter be for now.  
"And my words are fair?" Odin asked quietly.  
"Yes, Odin," Frigga laughed then lightly. "For once."  
"I am glad I do not disappoint."  
"This time."  
"Such faith," the king ended their light banter with a small kiss, beckoned at his son and gave Kol'la a nod. "I shall see you tomorrow, Kol'la. And you, Frigga, later on tonight?"  
"Yes."

-0-0-0-

With that, the two men left and Frigga moved to the table and brought over various potions and a light broth that would hearten any wounded patient. Kol'la ate the bread offered him slowly, feeling the ache of a bruised jaw – and wondered if his face looked any better than Thor's. After the soup and bread and potions and re-bandaging of his ribs, Kol'la laid back on the goose-down pillows and closed his eyes while Frigga sat at his side and quietly chattered about court gossip while working on a piece of stitch-work.

"My Lady-" He began, when there was a lull in conversation and the silence seemed to lay heavier than usual between them. Kol'la stopped, uncertain on how to continue.  
"It is Frigga," she smiled, taking his hand in hers, stopping her stitching for a moment.

He could never call her that. It seemed impossible. _Many things... but never that... Never that._

"What is it?" Her hand left his to push away a stray lock which had fallen over his brow and lingered to feel his temperature. Kol'la was always oddly cool. The only time he had shown a temperature was when the infection had set in after that particularly large stomach wound.  
"Well," Kol'la paused and then forged on, green eyes staring down at his bandaged knuckles. "They say that you have the gift of Sight."  
"Hmmm... there are times when... something yet to happen seems clearer to me. A glimpse of something that may be or will soon be. My mother had that Gifting as well – but I was never fully trained in it, and it comes only when I am rather relaxed... thinking or meditating or when I am weaving or doing some quiet kind of menial activity... do you see things sometimes?"

Kol'la swallowed, remembering his visions as a child of the Void. _Visions? Nightmares? Who knew..._ No one could ever tell him – and he had never spoken of it. _Not even to Elska. Not even to Thor._

"No," he finally said. A not-quite lie. "No. But... sometimes," he sighed, "I wish I could. Just to see..." He paused awkwardly, fingers fiddling with each other. "To see if this is my destiny."  
"What is your destiny?"  
"To lose." Kol'la looked away then, cheeks just a little flushed. "I sound so silly. What I mean is – must I always play the role of the wrong one... the misguided one... the defeated one?"  
"Oh... Kol'la..."  
"Why must..." He would not cry. He would not cry – and yet the corners of his eyes pricked hotly. "I always fail in what I set my hands to?"  
"Kol'la, dearest," Frigga leaned forward then, to draw him into a close embrace.

A foreign thing, but Kol'la sought it nonetheless. _It was like Glo-Glo – but not. Not really_, he thought incoherently. _Nothing like Glo-Glo. This must be another thing related to what a 'mother' must do._ Her voice held a faint tremble, which he knew meant that she was crying, and there was an odd clenching in his gut at the soft sound - and an ache in his chest.

"Oh... Kol'la... Kol'la... Of course not," she repeated over and over. "Of course not. The things I saw... they were great things... and maybe some of them may seem terrible – but I know that you will work through your path, however dark it may seem and find the place to which you truly belong."

He could not reply to that – could not respond. For the next few minutes, they sat there – until finally Frigga released him and helped him lay back on his pillows. Dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief, she said nothing for a moment. Then she smiled a gentle smile, full of hope and love – hope and love given to him, turned to him. _Given unconditionally, without demands or questions. It is overwhelming... and what can I offer in response? What have I to give to her?_

He did not know. He wondered if he ever would.

"One day," she repeated, "you will find a place to which you truly belong."  
"But it is not here," he whispered, green eyes dulling.  
"Maybe... maybe not," she replied slowly. Blue eyes filled with sadness and worry... for him. "I know you are graduating. Soon. And soon you will leave – I can tell wanderlust when it lies upon youth... Kol'la, as far as you travel, no matter into what dark places you stray, no matter what terrible workings you weave... please... please... know that you are always welcome at my side."

Kol'la's hand crept back into hers and squeezed gently and a small smile warmed the usually cool green eyes for a moment.

"I know," he said. "I know," Kol'la repeated, more firmly. "I will always come back."

That was the best way he could say it:

_I love you._

* * *

**Well, some more important Kol'la + Royal Family interaction! I love Frigga... and by the way, the last thought of Kol'la is NOT supposed to be creepy. It's Kol'la's subconscious response to Frigga's motherliness. I hope that that is clear. **

**Also, some may be disappointed about not going into detail about what happened at the dances and such. I will write a side-story for it. Perhaps I will send out another side story for those who review - when I reach 300 reviews or something like that. XD**

**As for the illnesses, my dad is getting better and is returning home - which is good! I still have a cough and allergies - but the eczema is now in control. Thank goodness!**

**Thanks everyone!  
See ya round in 6 or so days (or more if life gets crazy)!  
-KI**

**p.s. Over halfway done!  
p.p.s. After hard thought, I added 'Thor' to the character list for this story... and got some friends to help me rewrite my summary.  
**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"  
bikkja – bitch

Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place  
Atfirth – energies

blakkrbjorr – black beer  
Blakkrbjorn – black bear  
blakkrgras – black grass  
blargras – blue grass

Dagaheim  
dvegr – dwarf  
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection  
Flara River – Treacherous River  
For-Eldra – Ancestors  
Forn Vegr – Old Ways

Gastropnir  
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)  
Gothahus – temple  
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains  
grarulfr – grey wolves  
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents  
heillgrjot – healing stones  
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm  
heithrsker – crystal flowers  
Holdra River – Hero's River  
holkimurtr – small flat fish  
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains  
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements  
hota-eik – white oak  
hvaeta – wheat

Innaheim – Inner Realm

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)  
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)  
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters  
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)  
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War  
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver  
melrakki – white fox  
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits  
Northri Stjarna – North Star

silvralmr – silver elm  
silvrfiskr – silver fish  
Sithr Efingi – True Heir  
Skalldi  
skordyr – Jotunheim goat  
snaerharra – snow rabbit  
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves  
tunglbom (moonflower)

ulfrbarn - wolf child  
Utanheim – Outer Realm  
Utgard

vaetki – nothing  
ventrmellin – winter melon  
villrkyr – wild ox  
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age  
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains


	41. Grasping the Stars

Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

**Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of)****, slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings**.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

**My Dad is at home, recovering nicely. PTL! And my allergies have subsided for the most part - and now I just have to beat a cough and the continuing eczema. It doesn't help that I have to use chalk two days a week - which is totally not good for one's skin. I'm going to have to wear gloves... and of course - MOISTERIZE~! HA~!**

**As for those who reviewed and wished me well - THANKS SO MUCH! THANKS TO: InsolentKatt for your PMs! TO: NX-Loveless-XN, DragonsFlame117, ItsTrueIStalkYou, Guest, CrazyRayRay, Anarane Oronra and Winter Cicada~!**

**To Guest: I'm with you on wanting Kol'la to win... but in these circumstances, I think the odds were heavily weighted against him - and so, of course, he has to ask if he is MEANT to fail. A valid question, really - because the poor guy can NEVER win. (sigh) But I have some cool victories up ahead for him! At least 3x in a row~! HA~! Good times. As for the wandering... all I can say is that we have not yet visited the other Realms... yet... Heehee~! But don't worry about lack of family dynamics... Travelling stories won't start until Chapter 44 or so. XD Thanks about the summary thanks to two friends, I was able to tweak it. Hopefully people won't be daunted and try my story out!**

**A lot of exposition up ahead. Sorta... SORRY! But pay attention - the devil's in the details~!  
**

* * *

Distortions In Time  
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 41  
Grasping the Stars

**[...with these rites...]**

**[...what do we commemorate...]**

**[...but the origins of all that...]**

In the beginning, the Asgardian Saga-Vefr say – in the beginning before What Is was, darkness reigned. There was only darkness; there was the Ginnung, the Void, the eternal vastness, the endless emptiness. Then, as the stories tell, as the Story-Weavers tell – in an explosion of light and magic, there was Life. That Which Is – both Seen and Unseen – came into being.

Now, hundreds and thousands and, perhaps, hundreds of thousands of millenia later, memories of the Ominni-Tith were given homage as the cycle of passing the _stormerki_, the mysteria, to a new generation of Acolytes, soon to be Mages, was once again enacted. The Rikr-Hringraevi had turned – and flanked on either side by fellow scholars, the Acolyte Kol'la began the final Runa a Fyrsta - the Rites of Initiation. Listening to the words of Agaeti as they flowed out with the ease of familiarity, Kol'la's eyes wandered discreetly around the large, formally decorated room before him.

Before him lay the low table upon which sat the symbols of their trade: staffs, scrips and vellum. To the left before them in a wide semi-circle sat the as yet unready Acolytes and Apprentices of the younger classes and those who had just recently graduated before him. Opposite, on the right, were the more important functionaries seated in their respective tiered pews – the highly decorated Honoured Alumni (for glorious acts of service), the Aesir High Council of Magics and Academics and other such dignitaries. Behind all, encircling the two half circles of the Mage's Court around the outer edge of the great, dimly lit, round room, were those forever immortalized in stone – those who had returned to the very fabric of Life from which they had come. Those who had passed on.

Above them all, sitting in the Upper Gallery of the domed hall, Odin sat with Frigga. The King of Asgard, Odin All-Father and his lady wife, Frigga of Vanaheim, had deigned to attend for the first time in millenia.

_For my sake_, Kol'la smiled to himself as Agaeti droned on – "_...for those are not the futile gestures of lesser men, but with these rites do we commemorate the Origins of all that is, was and shall be..._" _– they came for me._ The young Jotun usually would have found great amusement at such a grand deception – that Royalty of Asgard would come to celebrate the achievements of a savage beast, their life-long enemy, a Jotun. Yet, Kol'la had no heart for such madness in such a sacred moment. Instead, he found comfort in their presence, despite the weight of their gaze upon him. The gazes of all those present: Odin's usual unreadable, thoughtful looks, Agaeti's measuring glances and Flarathir's patronizing, yet calculating stares. Bracing himself and firming his shoulders, Kol'la found Frigga's proud gaze and grinned instead.

_If this is a trick_, he thought, _it is a good one._

The ceremony itself was short and quiet as befit the life of Mages in Asgard – arcane, mysterious and not commented upon by the general populace which preferred simpler pleasures, grand adventures and honourable combat. Unlike the more popular Runa a Kelda and Runa'a'Vetr festivities and the more personal traditions of the Koma a Aldr, the transformation from student to master was much more solemn and, to the uninitiated or untrained who could not unravel the meanings of voiceless symbols, uninteresting.

_Like now_, Kol'la thought as a ceremonial scrip, staff and vellum were placed in his hands. Carefully balancing them (and very glad he had practised earlier), Kol'la repeated his part of the responses – "_...finding meaning in gesture, placing force in mortion, we partake in the mysteria, we can but graze the surface of the..._" and vows – "_...I am but a foot soldier in the Battle and stand, back to the Shadow, face forward to Valhalla and the Light..._"

Spells of blessing and empowerment followed, intoned in the deep voices of the Mage's Council. Odin and Frigga spoke them as well – and Kol'la realized that, at some point, Odin must have also taken those vows to fight as a Force for good. _Odin as an Acolyte?_ Kol'la thought. _Impossible... and yet..._

_And yet._

_No doubt_, Kol'la decided, _knowing the importance of all of this, the All-Father thought it necessary to encompass all that is Asgard during a time of unending war – but it did not come natural to him as it had for Lady Frigga... Lady Frigga, who, coming from Vanaheim, could not – could never – take an official position within these halls... in the end, she carved herself her own place within the magic of Asgard. Her will is indeed strong._ Kol'la smiled to himself. _As mine will be._

Polite applause broke through his thoughts and High-Mage Agaeti took his place behind a marble podium set up within the wide aisle to give a long-winded speech on responsibility and giftings and other dull topics which Kol'la had heard so many times before. Other mages afterwards stepped forward to give praise or words of advice. Kol'la smiled coolly at the mild jokes cracked by the ever mirthful Mage Eryth and the back-handed compliments of Mage Flarathir. Letting their bombastic words roll over him, Kol'la revelled in the feel of the rough wood of the simple staff within his hand.

A pause. Then, with a nod, the low table was lifted away from before them and the ten Acolytes could take five ceremonial steps forward into the middle of the room on the checkered marble paving. They stopped as quiet servants placed a long, deep iron box before them – the next obstacle in the Rites: the Skipa, or the Infusion. Instilling his magic into the crude wood within his left hand, focusing his power on the small crystal set into the rough carving at the staff's head, Kol'la filled it carefully, yet quickly with his magicks and then in turn set the staff inside.

Stepping forward importantly, Mage Flarathir gave a short speech on the fires of their magick filling the universe and how each small flame could take part in the streams of Life and blend with the colours of the Magickal Spheres. With that, the staffs were set on fire and the slow release of magic with the heated crystals turned the flames into glorious iridescent colours of reds, purples, yellows, oranges, greens and blues.

Watching the flames, knowing that in the more theoretical classes there was an on-going discussion as to what colour (if any) symbolized what level of power, Kol'la wondered if his magics would always shine such a lustrous blue and green. _The colours of power in Asgard are red and gold – strong, vivid and bold like its people... but mine is cool. Always cool. Cool and cold._

As the iron box was moved to a position somewhere behind them, the flames still crackling merrily, Kol'la and his fellow scholars opened the leather scrips which hung from their shoulders and pocketed the vellum within before stepping forward again – this time passing the High Mage to take up a line before the door which, facing the mountain, opened onto a small, green garden. The garden which had no name yet was spoken of with reverence by all those who worked Magick.

This was a sacred space and in its middle stood an inconspicuous, grey, stone well, fed by a stream deep within the earth which flowed down from the Skythurs itself. As the stories went, not long after the dawn of Time when Asgard bloomed as the final act of Magick and Light, the heartbeat of the Realm was hidden within the greatest mountain – but its power flowed out and, they say, has continued to flow out to this day. On Runa a Fyrsta, each Acolyte stood before it and in deep meditation partook of the waters in the Laegja, also known as the Rite of Immersion.

Eventually, finally, it was his turn. Kol'la stood before the Well, the grey stone underneath his palms felt solid as the rock of Skythurs itself – and like all of Asgard, it hummed with Life and green things and glorious purpose and great destinies and fierce combat. The Velspara-Speki, the Well of Wisdom, which granted those gifted few a glimpse of their destiny - or doom.

**_...you stand here..._**

**_...you take what is not yours..._**

**_...and yet, it may be..._**

**_...may be yet..._**

Kol'la thought of Asgard. He thought of Thor and lightning and the visible coursing of power through fist and bone and the strength of belief - _I see you_ -, housed within blonde hair and blue eyes. He thought of wise and complex counsel and Odin All-Father's words – _I trust you to be a brother_ – and white candles flickering in the dim library, lighting up dusty tomes. He thought of Frigga and a golden orchard and a sickbed of long ago and encouragment - _you are always welcome at my side_ - and love, a quiet hall of weaving and the sweet fragrance of tea. He thought further back – back to the worlds upon which he had lived, suffered, survived – and the Voices of those places, which could no longer be called Realms for their power had long since died. Further back – further back –

**_...to the place from which you came..._**

**_...to the land of which we do not speak..._**

**_...to the origin..._**

Mage Opna and the rites of Jotunheim and the dusty Gothahus. Empty rites, Elska had laughed and snorted and shook his head. Sometimes the Caretaker had cried. Kol'la, standing before the grey well, thought he understood now. _Maybe. Maybe, just a little._

**[...gesture without meaning...]**

**[...motion without force...]**

Kol'la's right hand moved forward and without much thought, without realization, clasped the dipper and eased it into the well's waters. The waters which rose to the well's top – clear and cold and sweet, he knew before even drinking. And when he sipped it –

_**...why should we not share...**_

_**...we who were once brother-sister...**_

_**...from the Dawn of Time...**_

_**...when we were born...**_

Kol'la's slender throat worked a little as the fresh water slid down into his belly. There was no one around him – just Kol'la alone in that small garden – such silence. Above him, shadows moved gradually over the sheltered place, the sun's ray winking in and out as the revolving stones, which had first caught his gaze on his arrival in Asgard, turned in time, marking the moment. Marking the place for all time.

He saw neither light nor shadow, neither green nor grey, neither what is seen or felt or sensed. Kol'la could only let what he knew would come to him – a sense of what lay before him. They had said – High-Mage Agaeti, Odin All-Father, Mage Hrotha and Flarathir – it was a time to know one's place. _What is it?_ Kol'la thought. _What will I commit to memory, to letter, to Life?_ He remembered his words to Frigga.

_-must I always play the role of the wrong one... the misguided one... the defeated one?-_

And her reply:

_-The things I saw... they were great things... and maybe some of them may seem terrible – but I know that you will work through your path, however dark it may seem and find the place to which you truly belong-_

_Was she right?_ Kol'la asked. _What is it that you have for me?_

And the wind answered.

**[...so we partake of Life...]**

**[...but can we understand it truly?...]**

Before him spread Jotunheim, empty and white and void. The skies of Jotunheim were empty. _Void of life. Not the Void. Not yet. One day, however_, Kol'la thought, _it will succumb. Unless... unless._

_...unless..._

Heimsrsal. Faint – and yet... not. There, and yet, not.

A tall, empty house of worship, the Gothahus, now silent with the Dead. Then, the quiet is broken - it is the cry of a babe in the dead of night heard only by a soul-dead Caretaker. He held the small thing in his hands - and, letting it live, brought the gift of years to himself and to Jotunheim.

_To Jotunheim?_

_**...there is hope, dear heart...**_

_**...there is always...**_

**[...so we dip into the wisdom of our Forefathers...]**

The Cosmos – full of colour and fantastic things and Life and possibilities. The Void – black and filled with nameless things and Death and inevitability. Eternally battling. And there he stood, as he always had, upon on the edge – but not as his Vow had stated. Never as his Vow. Never would he be able to fulfill that promise. _I am a liar_, he thought, as he gazed into the Abyss. _And always shall be. Ever shall my back be to Valhalla and the Light and ever shall I face this emptiness._

**[...so we glimpse destiny...]**

When Kol'la emerged a little later than was usual, his face was blank, yet his eyes blazed an unearthly green. As the other now-Mages before him had done, Kol'la opened his scrip, removed the vellum and wrote a few words on the pages before folding the paper and committing the words to the fire. It was the last step - the Brenna-fir, the Immolation, giving back to the fires of Life what the revelation granted to one only moments before.

Frigga knew that it was not her place to ask what destiny had been placed on those slender shoulders, but she wondered what the young man had seen. There was no doubt in her mind that he had actually seen something, unlike the others who loudly proclaimed hollow retellings of great honours and bright futures. The motherly Queen's stomach twisted as Kol'la removed the scrip, placed it again on the low table and exited the room without a word. During the small meeting afterwards, the Queen watched as Kol'la, rather dazedly, responded mechanically to the well-wishes of his peers and the other Mages on the Council. Unlike his usual smooth self, Kol'la remained, for the most part, monosyllabic.

_He is altogether too quiet_, Frigga decided, much later on that evening at the feast which she had planned for the young Mage. _Kol'la is not... here..._

"Kol'la," Frigga leaned sideways to clasp the green-eyed young man's hand. "Kol'la... Are you well?"  
"I am well," Kol'la's eyes sharpened as he returned to where he was. He smiled then, a small quick smile rather forced and he squeezed her hand lightly in return, comfortingly. "Well," he paused as Thor's booming narrative suddenly mentioned his name – in a rather unsavoury way, "as well as might be – what is Thor talking about now?"  
"Ah. Some story about your last quest with him to that dreadful world..." Frigga shook her head and sighed. "He is really altogether too excitable – especially when it comes to feasts."  
"Thor!" Kol'la rose and lobbed a piece of bread at his friend's head. "Not only is your story-telling as horrific as usual – but you are leaving out any actual facts and you are forgetting the best bits!"  
"Kol'la!" The blonde warrior turned with a frown away from some now very mirthful courtiers. "I was not forgetting them – I had just not yet gotten to the part where you tripped over your own staff."  
"The only reason why I tripped over my staff was because I had just used it to pull you out of that hunting trap you walked into! If it hadn't been for the age of the thing and the low quality of work put into it, you might have ended your quest with some well-placed skewers! And I fancy that Hogun and Fandral – and even the ever-hungry Volstagg here – could say 'no' to a meaty round of Thor!"

More laughter. Sif was shaking her head, but also chuckling a little behind her own goblet of mead. Volstagg thumped Thor on the back and offered the Prince another leg of turkey for consolation's sake.

"What?" roared Thor in return, ignoring a glare from Odin who was not enjoying the spray of food raining on his head thanks to Thor's half-full mouth. "And do you remember why I was so distracted as to put my life in danger – only because you were threatening to rouse our enemy and warn them of our approach with that damned warbling of yours. I swear," Thor turned to the others, "if you put a gown on him and a lute in hand, you would mistake Kol'la here for one of our maidens."  
"And yet I would be the finest about," Kol'la retorted, face turning red.  
"Thor," Sif said, rising from her place opposite the Prince and laid a hand on his. "Listen to me, Thor – let Kol'la tell the tale. After all, this is a feast in his honour."  
"Yes, yes, listen to her as usual," grumbled Kol'la, giving Sif the evil eye. "Never the more rational one."  
"After all," Sif continued sweetly, teeth now grinding at Kol'la's poor gratitude. "He is so sensitive, poor thing, and may never live it down."

Thor looked between the two who were now openly glaring at each other – then he laughed good-naturedly. Offering some more mead to his father and filling Sif's goblet up again as well, Thor shrugged.

"Now, Sif," he said, "you have a point. Come, Kol'la. Tell the tale with your usual great skill and awe us all with the recounting of my great – of our great deeds and what we conquered together."  
"Hm," Kol'la's eyes narrowed. "If you make jest at me, I shall find you and-"  
"And what?" Thor asked impudently. "Do not tell me you wish to enjoy another wrestling match so soon?"  
"THOR!"  
"Thor!" Frigga sighed and gave her son a despairing look, upon which Thor sat down and looked up at Kol'la with expectancy.

Realizing that the entire table had now fallen silent and all eyes were indeed turned upon him – waiting for the tale to be told, Kol'la sighed, shook his head, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath – and began.

"As some of you may know, but two weeks ago, Thor," (round of hurrahs), "the Warrriors Three" (roar of approval), "the fair Lady Sif" (catcalls and huzzahs), "and your own glorious story-teller, myself," (even more roaring, laughter and pounding on the tables), "set forth on a grand adventure to the world, which is so named Que'ranos, known for its famed underwater serpents which float – thusly -" (a sweep of the arm and the hall was filled with the illusion of water and giant beasts – a hush lowered over the crowd) "and to that place, Thor had the desire to go and slay one such creature. As you may guess, this is no small matter since the oceans are deep beyond measure – and dark-" (here the waters and light dimmed, giving the entire room a murky, mysterious feel) "and rarely do they surface for the sun's ray and breath of air. Nevertheless, our proud Prince had decided and we landed. However, no sooner did we set foot on the soil than a crowd of inhabitants approached us with terrible news -"

His voice rolled onwards and outwards and the scene changed to stormy skies and the shadow of a threat. Faces turned upward and around watching the story play out in all of its comedic, tragic and epic glory. When the tale ended, there was thunderous applause and everyone agreed that Thor could not have told it better.

"Maybe, Prince Thor will gain the skill," one Mage said graciously, unwilling to lose standing in Thor's regard – and Odin smiled. High-Mage Agaeti had been his right-hand adviser throughout the years, alongside his brothers and his wife. Kol'la, however, fulfilled two of the roles already. The All-Father had chosen. Soon, the rest of the Mage's Court would know.

**[...yet best laid plans...]**

**[...oft go awry...]**

"How do you think it went?" Frigga asked the next day, watching Kol'la finger the green leaves of her columbine absently.  
"The feast was – it went well, I think. Of course, telling stories is what I do best... and the food – your choices were... I, ah, I enjoyed them. Thank you."  
"Especially the mint pudding," Frigga said with small attempt to repress a smile at Kol'la's apparent inability to express his deep-hearted thanks.  
"Yes," Kol'la nodded, his green eyes unable to meet hers. "Especially the mint pudding."  
"Hm."

Frigga sat and then patted the stone seat beside her in unspoken invitation. After a moment of silent dithering, the tall, slender young man sat, hands trapped between long, leather-clad thighs, shoulders hunched - a picture of uncomfortable uncertainty. The Queen looked him over – from the top of his neatly combed back black hair (so rare for the Realm), green eyes set in a pale, lean face carved with aristocratic lines. The thin lips set in a determined line – with the strong jaw that still curved to give a soft look.

_He will always be a boy_, she thought,_ to me_. Since his questing, he had gained muscle – lean muscle that ran down his neck and gave some volume to his Mage Acolyte's blue and cream uniform. _No longer a student_, she thought, _he should get a tailor..._

Her hand rose to clasp the now wider shoulder and she smiled as she met his eyes. Kol'la's hand rose in response to cover her fingers with his longer, slender ones.

_A beautiful boy_, Frigga thought then, _a handsome boy, I should say._

"What are you thinking?" Kol'la asked softly, lips quirking up in a smile.  
"Why do you ask that?" she replied in kind.  
"You have... an odd look on your face..."  
"I suppose, I was thinking..." Frigga laughed then quietly. "How much you have grown since that first day I saw you lying on the bed, bleeding out. How much you must have grown since the time you were born... how handsome you have become. And clever, of course."  
"Of course." His dark head tipped forward – and his right boot crossed his left boot as he shuffled uneasily in his seat.  
"Fondness is something that mothers feel all the time."  
"Yes... I suppose."  
"Well," she sighed, "that was... rather forward of me. Since I am not your mother."  
"No," Kol'la looked up then and his eyebrows crinkled a little at the thought. "You are not."  
"Mother or no, I am very proud of you and what you achieved yesterday – and whatever you saw, I am certain you can overcome it."  
"What you see is destiny," Kol'la said. "Mage Flarathir said that what we see at the Well is-"  
"Flarathir is a bit of an ass, dear," Frigga laughed. "His magick is as he is – unbending and harsh – and not a little hungry. However, those of Vanaheim see magick as they see Life – something that is organic – that grows, even in the harshest of places... and so, nothing is set in stone, dear heart. Do you understand?"

Kol'la nodded slowly and Frigga drew him into a hug, knowing that this was the best she could do – for now.

"So," she said, drawing back, taking a deep breath and banishing the gloomy subject from between them. "I am thinking it is time to visit a tailor. Come, Kol'la, you and I – we could find something those than those blues and creams – what they do to your colouring! Do you wish to look like dead fish through all eternity? What is your favourite colour?"  
"Well, black is most suitable for-"  
"Black!" The woman threw up her hands in mock despair. "You and Thor! Colour! I am certain you know of colour!"  
"Well, fine then," Kol'la chuckled, "when I was... younger... I wore green. Green is a good colour."  
"And would go well with burnished gold or silver. Yes, yes, I can see it. And it would compliment your eyes so... see, this is what I was thinking..."

Dark and light blurred together as shadows shifted upon the grass beneath the gently rustling trees. Dark and light heads bent together in conspiracy. Dark and light, so juxtaposed, yet finding harmony, building peace.

* * *

**Well, there we go. A bunch more of Kol'la-centric stuff. Hope it worked for you folks! Send me questions if there's something unclear!**

**So, with that chapter finished, we are only 2 more away until the naming of LOKI~! YEAH~!  
I'm so excited... I hope you are too! I hope it feels realistic... I hope this all feels seamless... and stuff. (sigh) I've not been at my best, so my writing halted, but recently, I got a lease on life, so I hope that my writing can pick back up again.  
That being said, an update will come out in 5 days or so.**

**Please let me know what you think! It's really encouraging to me - to answer questions or dialogue with folks or rant about Hiddleston/Loki - and helps me write faster (and better)! **

**See ya guys around!**

**-KI**

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker  
Dou'ma – idiot  
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid  
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow  
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium  
cho'ai - lover  
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore  
Morning-star - a mace.  
oma'auzha – mother-effer  
oto'oa - big sister  
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

seithr - magic  
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror  
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"  
bikkja – bitch  
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers  
Ginnung – the Void  
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times  
stormerki – mysteria  
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time  
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation  
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring  
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice  
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age  
Skipa – the Infusion  
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)  
Laegja – the Immersion  
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation


End file.
